Sand and Steel
by Roach99
Summary: "When the walls come tumbling down, when you lose everything you have, you always have family," -Joshua Graham. This is the story of two brothers: a messiah and a messenger; the savior of the Capital Wasteland, and the ruler of the former City of Sin itself, New Vegas. This is their story (along with many others) in a new land known simply as Remnant.
1. Chapter 1: The Wanderer

**AN : Hey guys, Roach99 here with another story to introduce. Inspired by many works that have been made across both the RWBY and Fallout fandoms.**

 **Welcome to Sand and Steel. As a fan of both RWBY and Fallout, I was struck with inspiration to write this story, hoping that it will be a success.**

 **Obviously from the subject in regards to the protagonists, the lore to both Fallout 3 and New Vegas will be slightly altered.**

 **Alright, Author's Notes out of the way, enjoy!**

* * *

 **I do not own Fallout or RWBY**

 _"I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life, freely."_

 _-Revelation 21:6._

* * *

 **Chapter 1: The Alpha**

 _/Dear J,_

 _It's been six years since you left the Capital Wasteland and I still haven't heard from you after all these years. After we left the Vault, after all we had been through, after all that we've sacrificed, you just up and leave? I still don't understand why you left. Sure, you had explained to me that this place was not 'ready' for you and that you were meant for something bigger, but even now, you left without so much as a goodbye._

 _Was this about your age-old grudge that you held towards me? Sorry, I just have to ask._ _I'm writing this to you in hopes that you can receive this message and at least return one to me as well, so I can at least see how you're doing._

 _Anyway, since I'm writing this to you, I might as well tell you how much has changed since you left. The Capital Wasteland has been booming now that Project Purity is in effect, hopefully that means that Mickey can stop asking if I have any water to spare._

 _The Brotherhood of Steel has been working on something at the Air Force Base. They try their best to keep it covered up and away from the public, but from what I can tell, it's big, very big. The Enclave is all but wiped off from the face of DC with the help of an orbital strike to the Adams Air Force Base. Super Mutant populations are dwindling, though some unlucky bastards end up being transformed by the survivors in Vault 87 anyway._

 _Megaton is still functioning like a normal city, albeit with a dead bomb in the center, thanks to the both of us disarming it. I can't imagine the Wasteland without Megaton... lots of good memories there. Hah, I remember that time you tried to sleep with Nova while you were drunk for the first time, Gob ended up tossing you out and you ended up sleeping at my place with Wadsworth to look after you; good times._

 _Speaking of Megaton, I think Jericho misses you, but he's just not showing it. I wonder if he travels with me just because I was the only thing that reminded him of you. As for Clover... well, let's just say that she's **certainly** waiting for you. Honestly, I don't know how you ended up with  them of all people as your friends. Not that I'm judging, but I find it a little strange, yet unsurprising, that Jericho took an interest in you the moment you walked into Mortiarty's Saloon._

 _And on the subject of good times, Three Dog is still the DJ for Galaxy News Radio, spouting his long-winded speeches of fighting the Good Fight. Spreading the word and deeds of the Wanderers across the eastern coasts of old Washington DC. Even while your gone, he still plays his recordings of your accomplishments as well. The man means good and I can tell that he's enthusiastic about his work, seeing as the both of us stopped the Enclave while helping others along the way._

 _As for the others, Fawkes wished you well as soon as he heard the news, hoping that you'd 'find yourself on the right path once more'; Cross hasn't said anything about you yet, I don't think she even cares; Charon has no opinion whatsoever, still hanging around Underworld and whatnot; Butch still holds a bit of grudge for that prank you pulled ten years ago; RL-3 is convinced that you are fighting a war against Communism in China with nothing but a pair of military fatigue pants, jungle paint, and a gatling laser; and Dogmeat? Well, he actually misses you, he curls up around your old Vault 101 jumpsuit sometimes with Dogmeat Junior beside him._

 _Forgive me for sounding too cheesy, but I miss you too. I wonder what's become of you, why you aren't responding to the messages I send. So I just ask this once, please write back to me._

 _-Your brother, James August Jr./_

 **-oOo-**

James looked up at the message that he had typed out on the black terminal before him, the bright green letters sprawled across the screen. He typed in a few commands before removing a holodisk from the terminal before getting up from his chair and walking over to a deactivated Enclave Eyebot, the dull grey frame that made up the robot was covered in nicks, dents, and many other forms of damage and dilapidation.

Trying to recover one of these was tough, especially when they turn hostile should you try to mess with their inner workings. But hey, it was still in working condition.

Materializing a screwdriver from his Pip-Boy, he carefully unscrewed the back frame before getting to work on both it and the holodisk in his hand. James had done this numerous times before, but he couldn't afford to be sloppy, he **never** could.

 **[Repair 100]** In only a matter of minutes, James managed to install the disk into the eyebot. With the press of a button, he activated the small spherical machine, watching as it sparked with electricity for a second before coming to life, floating as it awaited it's first order.

"Well, that seems to work," he said in a course voice, "Designated Eyebot 01-CF73."

The Eyebot snapped to attention as it heard it's designation, still awaiting it's orders. James walked down the stairs and over to the entrance of his house, opening it, "Repeat installed message."

There was a soft whirring noise, followed by a series of clicks, " _Dear J, it's been six years since_ -"

"Pause message, reset," James ordered, nodding in content as the message seemingly played without any errors in the first few seconds.

"Begin courier protocols D932 to coordinates 36.1699 North, 115.1398 West," he gave the eyebot it's final order, watching as it paused for a split-second before floating out the door, through the twisted walkways that made up Megaton, and out the exit as another set of drifters began to enter through the doors, eager to trade their caps for either anything brown in Moriarty's Saloon or something big in Moira's Craterside Supply.

James inhaled deeply for a few seconds, holding it for about a minute as he walked over to the table in the middle of his house, sitting in the seat in front of him before letting it out. Hopefully, this message would work. He's sent almost a hundred eyebots to his brother. Of course it was in his nature to assume that some of them would be destroyed via Raiders, Super Mutants taking potshots for target practice, mutant animals that plagued almost every single wasteland that dotted across the former United States of America. But he knew that at least some of them, at least one, had to have made it to his brother.

He may have been overthinking it at one point, but James had thought that his own brother, his twin, his own flesh and blood, was deliberately ignoring him. Yes, they had their differences, but James was never ignored, his brother always making his point and thoughts clear to him. In short, they always made sure that their voices were heard, always hearing each others' problems.

But now he was gone.

And now he was avoiding him.

The man that was the Lone Wanderer slowly ran a hand over his messy dark-brown hair until it lowered to the front of his face and slid back down, resting on the table, exhausted by all the work he puts into both helping what will no longer be the Capital _Wasteland_ and trying to communicate with his brother in futility.

James heard the voice beside him, "Mister August? Is there anything I can do to assist in your predicament?"

He grit his teeth at that name. Yes, it was his, and he had refused to change it no matter the circumstance, but every time he heard that word, _August_ , he was reminded of the man that was involved with his father's death: the Enclave commander, Colonel Autumn.

The Lone Wanderer may not be a fan of violence, but by God did it feel satisfying to finally put a .32 caliber bullet in between the bastard's eyes.

"It's alright, Wadsworth," he said, materializing a Nuka-Cola from his Pip-Boy, he removed the bottle cap out of habit and de-materialized it to be added to his still-inflating currency of Caps, "I'm fine."

"If... if you insist, sir," the Mr. Handy that was Wadsworth spoke in a hesitated tone before turning around and drifting away, most likely to find some use cleaning something that was more than likely dirty.

James took a swig from his expired and flat soda, not caring about the dull taste or the constant ticking of Rads from his Pip-Boy.

It wasn't until five minutes of contemplating over various subjects and listening to _"Happy Times"_ on GNR from the device on his wrist later when he heard a loud and constant bout of knocking at the door. He watched as Dogmeat, who was sound asleep at the time in his dog-sized bed near the stairs, perk his head up at the familiar sound, Dogmeat Junior on the other hand stayed snoozing. A pair of pale, tired cobalt-blue eyes belonging to the Lone Wanderer himself stared at the door for a matter of seconds.

James slowly rose from his seat and walked towards the door, with his loyal canine companion at his side. He was in the process of unholstering his 10mm pistol and was about to hold it behind his back, suspicious over whoever that may have been at the door.

The Lone Wanderer had enemies, a **LOT** of enemies, some as common as the usual raiders and Super Mutants, as dangerous as the Enclave, to even the Slavers at both Paradise Falls and the Pitt (though he made sure that there wouldn't be any more of them in what was left of old Pittsburgh). So it wasn't uncommon for James to suspect that there may be some assassins out there in the wasteland who would be more than happy to kill him and bring his head to said assassins' employers or to hang his head on a wall like some kind of big game trophy.

James cursed at himself before dematerializing the pistol into the worn and battered cylindrical device on his wrist, shaking his head at his own paranoia. He mentally smacked himself from the fact that the settlers of Megaton were more than capable of defending themselves. That, and he would've heard gunfire from outside his house if there actually was a skirmish outside.

He opened the door, only to be greeted by a large humanoid mass of green and yellow muscles. Surrounding the hulking creature's muscles was a torn and tattered Vault 87 outfit, with only the shirt being in such a dilapidated state. On the meta-human's back was a rectangular pack with a deadly-looking gun strapped underneath.

"My friend! It is very good to see you again!" the beast before him bellowed, causing a small smile to form on the Lone Wanderer's face.

"Hey Fawkes, how are you?" James asked casually, eager to see his old friend after so long.

"I am doing fine, the people in this town seem to treat me with respect, perhaps a benefit to working alongside a hero such as yourself. But nevertheless, I have come to deliver a message," he explained, crossing his arms and looking down at the dog beside his old friend, "And Dogmeat, good pup, how have you been as well? Is your master treating you with the respect that you deserve?"

 ***Woof!*** Dogmeat answered with his tongue still hanging from his mouth like any other excited dog, earning a laugh and a nod from the Super Mutant.

"Good, you have saved his life more times than he can count!" Fawkes said, the part of his mouth that wasn't in a permanent sneer formed into what seemed to be a sly grin.

"It's good to see you again too, old friend," the Lone Wanderer closed his eyes and shook his head in amusement, "Now, what was your message?"

"The Brotherhood of Steel requests your aid once more, something about 'another base', I do not remember much about the details. But what I do remember is that Elder Lyons said it would be best if you bring any allies that you trust, if necessary," Fawkes informed, recalling any details that Sarah had told him. He may have been sane, but there were still a few problems with the Super Mutant's memory; recalling his own name was one such example.

Ever since Fawkes had assisted them in ridding the Capital Wasteland of the Enclave and bringing about the success of Project Purity, Elder Lyons went out of his way to knight Fawkes as an unofficial member of the Brotherhood of Steel. Though the Codex stated that Super Mutants and anything similar were technically arch-enemies of the Brotherhood of Steel, Fawkes was an exception, seeing himself as a 'Meta-human', rather than referring to himself as a traditional Super Mutant.

Only a select few of the Brotherhood of Steel, such as Sarah and Elder Lyons, know of Fawkes' new title. Though the Brotherhood tolerated Fawkes' presence, it would be a certainty that there would be some form of outrage throughout the entire East chapter, much more the entire Brotherhood of Steel.

It was things like these that proved how much different Lyons was from the rest of the Brotherhood.

"Of course, I'll see you then," James nodded, Fawkes nodded back in content before turning and walking away, more than likely heading back to the Citadel to inform the Brotherhood of his success of having the Lone Wanderer assist in their new operation.

"We will wait for you when you arrive, my friend," the sane Super Mutant said as he continued to walk away, knowing that the Lone Wanderer was more than capable of defending himself on his way to the Citadel, MUCH more than capable.

He closed the door behind him, sighing deeply.

It had to be the Enclave, there was no other explanation. Of course the Enclave wasn't dead, it just can't. First, they was defeated in the battle of the Jefferson Memorial, then the Enclave was almost completely annihilated at the Adams Air Force Base, save for any wandering survivors that may be out there.

James grit his teeth in frustration before taking a deep breath and calming down, looking down to see Dogmeat looking up at him, tilting his head in confusion.

But of course, he had a job to do. He would have to continue if he wanted to see the permanent end of the Enclave's tyranny.

"It's fine, boy," he eased the dog's tension before looking forward, "Wadsworth!"

Literally a second later, the Mister Handy robot floated into James' field of vision, "Yes, Mister August?"

"Is my armor ready?"

"Sir, your armour has been ready for the past three days. I saw to the reparations myself, much to my regret," Wadsworth uttered the last few words quietly so his master wouldn't hear him.

 _'I'm a robot programmed to serve those living in a domestic lifestyle, I'm not a mechanic!'_ the robot complained within his own programming.

"Thanks, Wads," the Lone Wanderer nodded at the machine.

"You're very welcome," the Mister Handy floated back up the stairs, carrying a feather duster in it's metallic claw and disappearing from James' vision.

The man walked to one of the rooms in the house, another room right underneath the stairs, beside Dogmeat's bed. Inside the room was a large shape covered only by a dull grey tarp. James removed the thin sheet to see his newly-repaired Power Armor.

The Winterized T-51B Power Armor, retrieved after assisting a group of Brotherhood Outcasts with an Anchorage simulation, though this set of armor wasn't the only reward that he had received, Jingwei's Shocksword and the Gauss rifle were among these benefits.

He had to give Wadsworth credit, the robot really put a lot of effort into fixing this thing after he had helped the Brotherhood against the Enclave. His armor had become too damaged to use for the rest of the battle, so it was temporarily discarded, having to rely on nothing but his ballistic-armored Vault suit, a handful of Stimpaks, his trusty Hunting rifle, and his old 10mm pistol that he had kept for so long. The armor was retreived after the battle.

When he awoke from his little radiation bath, he discovered that the suit was damaged nearly beyond repair, covered in an assortment of damage ranging from average bullets, to lasers, plasma, rockets, there was probably even a Fat Man nuke that had attempted to turn him into a pile of ash, if he recalled correctly.

But nevertheless, with a little help from his Pip-Boy, a couple of power tools, the ever-so-handy Moira Brown, some strange gizmos from the mothership up in space, and Wadsworth, he put more emphasis on the words 'damaged **_nearly_** beyond repair'.

James ran his hand across the reflective metal breastplate of the armor, obviously impressed by the handiwork. He looked up at the helmet, it's fierce American patriotic glare boring into his own expression before moving to the back of the stationary armor.

With a twist of the valve on the back, the armor opened up, allowing the Lone Wanderer to step inside before letting it close on him, and bringing up a complex, dull orange heads-up display. He looked down at the mechanical hand currently being operated by his own, curling it's fingers experimentally before deciding that it was working at operational efficiency.

James watched as Dogmeat bounded up to him, panting with an eager look on his face, knowing that his master was now going to be traveling with him once more.

"Come on, boy. We have work to do," the Lone Wanderer responded as Dogmeat yipped happily at him.

As they both began to head out the door, James stopped as he was just about to exit, "Wadsworth! Dogmeat and I are going to go out for a bit. DJ is in charge while I'm gone."

"Of course, sir," Wadsworth nodded his center eye stalk at his master as he closed the door behind him. The robot sighed before looking down to see Dogmeat's descendent staring right back up at him.

 ***Woof!*** Dogmeat Junior barked.

"Fine, I'll get your damn food. Bloody drooling mutt..." Wadsworth grumbled as he floated back into the kitchen to fix up a meal for the canine he was now forced to temporarily serve.

Meanwhile, while the robot and the puppy continued to stay within the walls of James' house, the owner and his faithful companion had stopped by both Moriarty's Saloon and Craterside Supply. Craterside Supply to pick up additional ammunition from Moira (James had gotten reports that her book was a success throughout any wasteland that it comes across), and Moriarty's Saloon to recruit Jericho, which had been... somewhat successful?

Jericho's reputation as a mercenary and companion of the Lone Wanderer's brother had grown stagnant after said brother had left. So the former raider did what he did best: return to Megaton, head to Moriarty's Saloon, get as shit-faced as humanly possible, rinse and repeat. Since then, nothing's really changed for the old man, besides the constant threat of boredom lurking around the corner.

The bald-headed mercenary trailed slightly behind the hero of the Capital Wasteland, his Chinese assault rifle pointed at a forty-five degree angle towards the ground, holding the deadly weapon in both hands. Strapped to his back was Jericho's infamous nail board, though there were a few new nails within the self-fabricated weapon, as some of the old ones were still lodged in his victims' heads.

"Listen here, kid," the former raider began, pointing an accusing finger at the Lone Wanderer, "I'm only signin' up with you on this 'adventure' with those tin-can friends of yours because of your brother."

James' hands clenched tightly in irritation, "Of course, Jericho."

He and Jericho were almost never on good terms, with him being the equalizer to prevent the raider and his brother from doing any more... morally ambiguous acts. That meant they didn't like each other, both having their differences and hating each other because of it.

To put it in perspective: the Lone Wanderer would rather donate all his caps to the Church of Atom if that meant that Jericho never existed in the first place.

Speaking of the Church of Atom, they were still preaching their words of... well, Atom. As much as it seemed necessary to tell Cromwell and the rest of his disciples that the bomb was deactivated, he really didn't have the heart to tell them the truth.

"Good, cuz if it's anything more than what you say, I'm out. That clear, asshole?" the bald mercenary demanded, thumbing off the safety of his assault rifle as they made their way down the ramp and exiting the bomb-themed town.

"Look, I may not be my brother-"

"Damn straight, that little bastard was the only badass out of the both of you, _**Lone** _ Wanderer," Jericho snarked, a devilish smirk playing across his lips, mocking the man wearing a full, operational suit of T-51B power armor.

The young man from Vault 101 couldn't tell if Jericho was either really ballsy or a fucking idiot. But since this guy was once a raider that just so happened to still be alive in his old age, he decided that it was both.

James' eye twitched visibly in annoyance, "-BUT I'm just as tough as he is. So if you wouldn't mind; shut. The fuck. Up."

The former raider raised in eyebrow out of surprise (albeit slight surprise) before shrugging nonchalantly, shouldering the rifle in his hands, "So the boy scout has a mouth on him, I have to say I'm actually impressed. All right, I guess I'll stick around for a while."

"Good, now we have a... special job to do, so we'll have to retrieve some of my brother and mines' friends for said mission. Got it?" James asked, using the dim orange HUD on his Power Armor. Hanging from his side was his old 10mm pistol, modified to pack a little more kick into those that he took aim at, while Lincoln's Repeater had been hanging from his back.

"Just hurry it up!" Jericho shouted in irritation as they began to walk through the Capital Wasteland, his finger twitching against the trigger on his rifle.

"Relax, okay? Okay, we'll have to pick up Clover from the Paradise Falls ruins, she's probably snuggling up to Eulogy's fried skeleton right now; RL-3 will be at Canterbury, no doubt still confused by that Ant-agonizer and Mechanist predicament; Charon'll be hanging around Underwold, that's my best guess. Fawkes and Cross will be waiting for us at the Citadel. All good?" he asked, earning a bark from Dogmeat.

"We'll start with Clover," Jericho suggested, "that bitch is crazy, and that means that I can tolerate her the most."

James let out a quiet sigh, letting out a quiet mutter, "Of course, let's just get this over with."

He just hoped that eyebot would make it to it's location. Last time he had heard of his brother, there was a mention of a war going on near some place called New Vegas.

 _'What did my brother get himself into this time?'_ James had thought as soon as he received the news months earlier.

* * *

 _ **-Sixteen years ago-**_

 **July 13, 2268 (Monday)  
Vault 101**

 _"Hey J, Dad said he wanted to see us in the diner. What did you do this time?" James, a ten year-old boy with brown hair and cobalt eyes covered by a pair of black glasses, demanded from his twin brother._

 _"Me? What makes you think I did anything?" James' brother, who refused to be called anything but his nickname, 'J' or Jay, depending on how certain people see it._

 _Like his brother, James, they shared the same physical features, one of the perks of being identical twins._ _The only thing that helped others tell the two apart was the mischievous smirk that Jay always wore, like he was ready to pull a prank on someone at any given moment._

 _"It's you," James deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest and giving a suspicious look._

 _Unlike Jay, James was the more mature of the two, as well as the smarter to compensate for his strength, which was more of his brother's specialty._

 _"Bite me, Daddy's boy. Wally deserved to have that firecracker in his toilet and both of us know it," Jay mimicked his twin's actions and gave him a slightly maniacal grin._

 _Oh right, he forgot to mention, despite Jay's more violent nature, he had something that seemed to get him out of almost any situation: a silver-tongue that could rival even the best smooth-talker in the Vault. With that extraordinary ability that was in Jay's arsenal, he had even managed to get away with some of his more... daredevil-level pranks, even in the presence of his own father._

 _James silently grit his teeth at his nickname, 'Daddy's boy', tugging at the sleeves of his Vault 101 suit as he still had his arms crossed. Despite being ten-years old, James had a surprisingly analytical mind thanks to his father, James August Senior._

 _Jay, on the other hand, was a bit more... difficult to deal with. He was more rebellious, rude, mischievous, and on some rare occasions, ruthless. For some unknown reason, his own sense of justice(?) was a little more than warped, and no matter what James (both his father and his brother) tried to do, they couldn't seem to find out what made him so... like that._

 _"Hey James, we're here," Jay interrupted his thoughts as they entered the near pitch-black diner, "Y'know where the light switch is?"_

 _"To your right, just next to the door," James answered, recalling it's location from memory._

 _"Wow, one heck of a memory you got there, it'd be cool if you used that for my- GAH!" the twin's response was interrupted as he jumped up in fear from the light that suddenly blinded him temporarily, as well as a loud exclamation as the lights were suddenly turned on._

 _"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" an entire crowd, surrounding the brothers. Among that crowd was their father, the Overseer, and... Amata._

 _If anyone asked Jay if he had a crush on Amata, he would outright deny it, then would threaten to break the nose of the person who would dare to ask such a question in the first place._ _But in all honesty, James knew that Jay's statements were, in fact, on the contrary to what he was actually saying._

 ** _[PER 6]_** _From James' perspective, the signs were pretty clear: Jay blushing from every compliment he received from the girl, stuttering and bumbling about like a total doofus when he tried to make conversation with her, the list goes on._

 _While Jay had been stunned and slightly disoriented from the surprise, James was smiling brightly at the people before him._

 _"Happy birthday, my boys! I can't believe you both are already ten. I'm so proud of you two," their father exclaimed, ruffling both boys' hair, "If only your mother-"_

 _"Congratulations, boys! I don't have to tell you two how special this day is, do I?" the Overseer asked as he approached the two, crossing his arms lightly and glanced at the both of them._

 _James nodded slowly, while Jay was silently fuming. He knew that the more reckless of the two was not entirely used to authority, so when he was standing in the personification of command itself, it wouldn't bode well with someone as... free-spirited as Jay._

 _"Down here in Vault 101, when you turn ten, well, you're ready to take on your first official Vault responsibilities," the Overseer explained before removing a hollow, cylindrical device from the belt on his Vault jumpsuit, turning to look at James, the son, "So here you are. As Overseer, I hereby present to you your very own Pip-Boy 3000. Get used to it. You'll be getting your first work assignment tomorrow."_

 _They watched as the Overseer laughed lightly before turning away, leaving Jay with nothing to give._

 _It seemed that the de facto ruler of Vault 101 was aware of the boy's resentment towards him, and it looked like this was his own way of indirectly expressing it._

 _"Enjoy your party, you're only ten once, so have fun," their father said before walking back to the far corner of the diner, beside a Mister Handy that was about to cut the birthday cake._

 _As the party continued to go on, the twins immediately ran into their friend, Amata, who just so happened to be the daughter of the Overseer himself._

 _"Happy birthday! We really surprised you, didn't we?" he dark-haired girl giggled lightly, "Your dad was afraid you two were onto us, but I told him not to worry. You both are so easy to fool."_

 _"This is a great party, Amata. Thanks for doing this for us, we're really grateful," James said, while Jay was busy socializing with the party members, "Well... at least one of us is."_

 _"It's alright, I don't know why Jay's like that," she observed the identical twin interacting with Butch and his so-called 'gang' before looking back at James, "and you're welcome. But really, your dad did most of it. I just helped with the decorations and stuff. Oh hey, I bet you can't guess what I got you for you guys' birthday. Go on, guess!"_

 _James lowered his glasses slightly before smiling, "A date with Christine Kendall?"_

 _As soon as the question left his lips, Amata's face immediately scrunched up in disgust, speaking in a voice equal to her expression, though there were a few giggles before she spoke, "Eww, James! I didn't think you were into girls like tha-"_

 _Just as she was about finish her sentence, however, the pair turned to see Jay and Butch in the middle of the diner with the rest of the bully's thugs surrounding the both of them, both them and the rest of the party members in the diner watching as the two were in the process of a fight, with the both of them laying a brutal beatdown on one another. Butch slammed his fist into Jay's jaw, causing him to snap back before wiping his face with his Vault suit, which was now slicked with a tinge of blood._

 _Before the fight could erupt into anything more chaotic, the Vault security guard watching over the fight, Officer Gomez, stepped in between the two, holding them by the collars of their Vault suits, "Both of you need to stop, now!"_

 _"He started it!" Jay yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the bully in front of him before turning to look at his brother for any form of sympathy, "He tried to steal our sweetroll!"_

 _"You're the one that talked shit about my mom!" Butch screamed with a furious scowl on his face._

 _"My word! It is best that you watch your profanity, young man!" Andy, the Mister Handy behind the counter floating in front of what used to be a cake (but now resembled more of an abomination made of bread and frosting), gasped through his audio system._

 _"Butch, you were invited to James' and Jay's birthday party as a member of this party, act like it," the guard warned._

 _James facepalmed as a triumphant smirk had suddenly appeared on Jay's face._

 _"As for you, Jay,-" the boy's grin disappeared almost immediately as he watched his own father get up from his seat and walk over to him, "-this is not just your party, this is your brother's as well. I expect that you do not cause any trouble as well. Do you understand?"_

 _They watched as the boy stood silent for just a second before nodding slowly, an almost audible growl emitting from his throat as both he and Butch were let go._

 _"What's Butch's problem anyway? He just tried to start a fight with you guys' birthday party, what a jerk!" she whispered to James, who nodded in agreement._

 _"Jay told me Butch tried to steal his-... our sweetroll," James corrected himself, remembering that he had seen Old Lady Palmer give his brother a sweetroll earlier, telling him to share._

 _"Sheesh, Butch really is full of himself," Amata commented, "I bet if you got a look inside his head, there'd just be another Butch inside, waiting to pop out."_

 _"Ugh, don't put that picture in my head," the twin Vault dweller cringed at the thought, "Let's just have fun."_

 _"Yep, way ahead of you," she nodded, watching as James walked across the room to rejoin with his brother._

 _While James had intended to stay with the party and continue to socialize as the twin Vault dwellers' party continued, he turned to see Jay walking out of the party with their dad. The boy walked towards the exit, turning to look at the rest of the party._

 _Maybe they wouldn't mind if he slipped out of the party for a little bit? Regardless, he walked out, quietly following his dad and brother._

 _James had to hold back a giggle as his brother ran into Beatrice, another resident of the Vault. Though the boy was trying to stifle his laughs not because it was merely the fact that it was Beatrice, but what she had given to him as a gift._

 _It was a poem that she had written for him as a birthday gift. He couldn't help but chuckle quietly at the fact that Jay wasn't exactly the philosophica-_

 _"Here you go, sweetie. I want you to give this to your brother," James suddenly heard, watching and listening as the awkward look on his twin's face disappear into neutrality._

 _...Oh._

 _Nevertheless, he continued to follow them until they reached the reactor, where he was now listening in the middle of their conversation._

 _"-If you can wait just one more minute, I think your dad will want to give you the surprise himself."_

 _Wait a minute, where was his dad? Wasn't he with them just a second ago?_

 _"James," just the suddenness of that one word caused him to emit a loud yelp in surprise._

 _He turned to see that his own dad was standing right behind him, while Jay's expression turned to surprise as he was now aware of his brother's presence._

 _"Have you been following us the whole time?" his brother asked, one of his eyebrows rising out of intrigue._

 _"Um..." James fumbled slightly, trying to find an excuse. While James was conscious of how smart he already was (given that he's his father's son, obviously), he also knew that Jay was just as smart._

 _"It's fine, my boy," his father patted him on the shoulder lightly, calming the boy's mood somewhat before the old man's voice took on a tone of amusement, "I knew you were following us."_

 _"Then why leave me out of it?" James asked, more out of curiosity than agitation._

 _"The both of you are brothers, inseparable," the aged man before him explained, looking at the both of them with a brief pause, "where one goes, the other is surely there, following not too far behind."_

 _Both brothers looked at their father, confused by his answer._

 _"Makes sense to some degree," Jonas, the Vault dweller who Jay had been talking with earlier, nodded in understanding._

 _"But never mind me rambling now," their father waved offhandedly, his mood shifting almost entirely, "Are you ready for your surprise?"_

 _Both brothers perked up immediately at their father's question._

 _"What kind of surprise?" they answered simultaneously._

 _They watched as their father's smile faltered slightly, looking towards James. The boy knew his answer was not going to be good._

 _"I'm sorry, my son, but this is your brother's gift. The Overseer had explained that there were not enough Pip-Boys to go around," he explained, "instead, I took it upon myself to get a gift for him."_

 ** _[PER 6]_** _James looked up at his father, who had grimaced slightly at his own answer. And like his father, he knew there were enough of the devices to go around. So the question was, why would their own Overseer alienate Jay of all people from having a Pip-Boy?_

 _Both watched as their father withdrew a small rifle and a plastic canister filled with small red pellets._

 _"Your own BB gun. It's a little old, but it should work perfectly," the gun left his hand and was transferred into Jay's, "Jonas found it down here. It was in pretty rough shape, it took us a good three months to find the parts to get it working again."_

 _"That means you have me to thank as well," Jonas said, smiling humorlessly, though they knew that he had secretly took pride in the fact that he had gotten it back to working condition._

 _"You know how tough it is to find a spring that small? Good thing Butch 'misplaced' that switchblade of his," James, their father, laughed lightly at his comment, with Jay laughing even more so beside him._

 _"Thanks Dad, I love it," Jay smiled a genuine smile, not a smirk, not some smug sneer. James' brother was actually grateful for this gift, which was something that had happened once in a blue moon; his gratitude, not the gifts._

 _"I knew you would, my boy. Now, what's say we give your new present a test run?"_

 _Jay's smile grew even wider, his grasp on the rifle tightened in excitement, "Heck yeah!"_

 _"Good answer, and I know just the place, c'mon," their father motioned to Jonas, who opened the door beside them._

 _They walked into the room to be greeted by a large collection of boxes scattered throughout the room, but what caught the boys' interest was the row of targets lined up horizontally._

 _"You know what? Since I'm feeling generous, little brother, I'll let you take the first turn," James suddenly felt the faux firearm in his hands as it was pushed onto him by his brother._

 _"You really mean it?" he looked at Jay in surprise, before shifting into a frown, "Wait a minute? Little brother? We're the same age, you nincompoop!"_

 _Jay only burst out laughing, shaking his head in amusement, "Yeah, go ahead, knock yourself out."_

 _James loaded a magazine into the gun before having to remove it, finding out that he had deposited the object backwards. Nevertheless, he managed to properly load the gun after a few tries, finally taking aim._

 _He shifted his glasses slightly and fired once, watching as the pellet soared through the air, determined to make it's mark before finally-_

 _"Missed," Jay said, crossing his arms with a smug grin on his face._

 _James looked to see that he had, in fact, missed his target, watching as the pellet merely smacked into the wall behind the targets before clattering onto the floor._

 _"Drat," James mumbled, listening as Jay snickered behind him. He responded by sticking his tongue at him before raising the weapon once more and firing again._

 _Alright, he was only a beginner with this kind of stuff, so maybe he could surely-_

 _"Missed again."_

 _"Darnit!" the boy growled before raising it once more._

 _Third times a char-_

 _"Missed again."_

 _James eye twitch before finally turning to face his brother, "Why don't you give it a try and see if you can do any better?"_

 _Jay merely shrugged before grabbing the gun from his brother's hand, walking over to the front of boxes that separated him from the other side of the room._

 _With an almost inhuman dexterity and speed that James had never witnessed from his brother in all his life, he watched in awe as Jay cocked the weapon and began taking aim and firing at each target that stood before him. The targets spun wildly as the pellets made contact._

 _The only expression that the boy had seen on his brother's face was what could only be described as precise._

 _Jonas and James, both of them, looked at the boy with surprised expressions._

 _"Where'd you learn how to do **that**?" Jonas asked, pointing to Jay's gun, then to the targets. _

**_[?]_** _"I don't know," he confessed, "It just... happened? I dunno."_

 _"Jonas, I think we have a natural over here," their father said to the man standing next to him, smiling before it dropped immediately, "Boys, look!"_

 _The twins turned to see something crawl into view, it looked like some kind of disgusting monster. A dark brown carapace covering it's body, small brown-tinted wings flickering, a pair of antennae constantly twitching across the floor._

 _"Be careful, son. That's a Radroach, if you can take care of that with your BB gun, you'll be fine, just aim and shoot."_

Easy, _Jay thought as he raised his gun once more, aiming for the one spot that would surely get rid of it._

 ***Ptew!***

 _The pellet shot out of the barrel of the gun, moving at a fast pace towards it's intended target._

 _They watched as the gun's single ammunition perforated the giant bug's head, exiting out the other end and clattering across the other end of the room._

 _"Good work, that's one less Radroach we have to deal with," their dad remarked, glancing at the many pieces that made the Radroach's brain._

 _He looked at the twins, "Let's take a picture together, to capture the moment. Hey Jonas, get a picture of me and my sons: the genius and the big game hunter."_

 _All three watched as Jonas withdrew a camera and pointed it in their direction._

 _James crossed his arms with a small smile, Jay held his rifle vertically, the barrel touching the floor with his hand resting on the other end. Their father held a proud smile across his face, his arms wrapped around the two things that mattered most to him on this earth._

 _Little did they know that this was only the beginning of their story. A story forged from pain, misery, heartbreak, betrayal, and most importantly: war._

 _Because war... war never changes._

* * *

 **Disclaimer: Alright, hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Sand and Steel, because I had a lot of fun writing this. **

**So I decided to take a different route. First with it being Fallout, one of my all time favorite series in video games, and second with telling a slightly AU story.**

 **How AU? Well, as you can already tell, what if the Lone Wanderer wasn't the only child? What if he had a twin brother?**

 **Anyway, if you have any questions, just leave a review and I'll answer them in the next chapter.**

 **And as always, stay beautiful, ladies and gents! This is Mr. New Vega- oops, never mind. Just stay beautiful.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Courier

**AN** **: Hello again, ladies and gents, to another chapter of** **Sand and Steel** **.**

 **We saw the Lone Wanderer in the first chapter, now let's take a look from all the way across to the other side of the war-torn United States at our other hero now hailing from the beautiful and shining city, New Vegas.**

 **And I know you guys are just waitin' for some of the sweet, sweet works from Obsidian Entertainment.**

* * *

 **Comments:**

 **Guest:** **More like Mass Effect's Paragon and Renegade morality system, it's complicated.**

 **Speaking of Mass Effect's dialogue system, Fallout 4's getting more DLC: Wasteland Workshop Mouse Trap Board Game edition, Disney Land if it was advertised by Coca-Cola, and a Vault-Tec reenactment add-on.**

 ***Drops mic and leaves the stage***

 **Mandalore the freedom:** **Your feedback is appreciated, thank you kindly.**

 **edboy4926** **: Thank you.**

 **Sanford's Vessel:** **Welp, thank you. Shame that your vessel doesn't allow you to teleport between different bonfires, unlike a different vessel (*cough* mandatoryDarkSoulsReference *cough*).**

* * *

 **Now, onto the story.**

 **AD VICTORIAM!**

* * *

 **I do now own either Fallout or RWBY.**

 _"And in those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them."_

 _-Revelation 9:6_

* * *

 **Chapter 2: The Omega**

It was another hot day under the scorching sun that ravaged the Mojave wasteland. Old world relics scattered about the desert like garbage; old bones of man, brahmin, and many other creatures lay motionless, bleached by the hot ball that had been hanging above the sky, beating down on all it saw like an angry god.

The Mojave wasteland may not have been the most comfortable of places, but it was home to many. Prospectors, raiders, ghouls, Super Mutants and their schizophrenic cousins: the Nightkin, you name it.

And in the choked sands of what once was known as Nevada, there laid the capitol of a new nation that had been formed after the bombs had fallen.

A glittering, almost literal diamond in the rough known as New Vegas, a city known for standing the test of time and decay even during the Great War. It was a city of dreams, sins, and the chances to go big or go home for just about anybody who had the caps, dollars, or denarius to do so.

For the capitol of the Mojave to even take on it's luxurious appearance, the former Sin City was powered by a concrete behemoth barricading the Colorado River known as Hoover Dam. Harnessing the power of hydroelectricity, the dam introduced light once more to the land of New Vegas, once led by their enigmatic de facto leader: Mr. House.

Though there were some that sought to control the land that made up the Mojave. And to control the Mojave meant that both the dam and the city must be under their influence as well.

To the west of the Mojave was a booming nation known as the New California Republic, or NCR for short. Founded in a place known as Shady Sands, the settlement grew steadily until it formed into the powerhouse nation that, to this day, controls nearly the entirety of Old California. It's white flag bearing the image of a two-headed grizzly bear walking across a patch of green grass, a red star was visible alongside this image on the corner of the flag.

Though the New California Republic was doing it's best to mirror the positive traits of a nation that had once thrived before the war, it had also fallen to inheriting some of America's bad. Corruption and infighting was a common trait in such things like the NCR, so it was understandable and to be expected from a nation trying to mimic old world traditions such as democracy.

But it's greed and hunger for expansion? They had paid the price with a fair share of blood from another force to be reckoned with.

Meanwhile, to the east laid a mighty empire. A golden bull emblazoned upon a red flag and their soldiers sporting the appearance of Roman soldiers during the times of old. Old even for pre-war history. This empire, known as Caesar's Legion, was lead by a man known as Caesar.

Only a select few knew of his real name, Edward Sallow, but that number has been dwindling significantly, save for one who had survived a grisly execution and had fled to eventually take part in and change history in a canyon residing in the remnants of Utah.

Caesar's Legion was the NCR's counterpart in every sense of the word, it's polar opposite in every way, shape, and form. The Legion was a dictatorship that implemented old, archaic methods that spanned many a millennium. Slavery was the most well-known of these methods, and although there's been many demonstrations of such practices throughout the many wastelands that dotted the fractured States, the Legion was it's poster boy.

Their tyrannical leader had spread lies to his followers, proclaiming himself the son of Mars, falsely confessing that the bombs had been sent by the god of war for the sole purpose that mankind has grown weak; and if anyone dare to disapprove of these proclamations, either he or his Legate, be it the Malpais or Lanius, would personally see to their punishment. Though the Legion was a cruel and brutal empire, Caesar's purpose of the Legion was to unify mankind under one banner in an attempt to create order.

But like any other tyrant with good intentions, their ends required devastating and abominable means of carrying it out.

And so two powerful nations forced themselves against one another for one sole reason: the Hoover Dam. The NCR wanted the power that the dam contained to provide electricity for the republic; while the Legion wanted power, not power that the Dam provided directly through hydroelectricity, but as a symbol of strength, wanting to then take control of Vegas to give Caesar the "New Rome" he's been looking for.

Both powers had been locked in a fierce stalemate, neither side gaining control of the other. The NCR had it's technology, firepower, and manpower; while the Legion had strategic advantage, using guerrilla tactics to make short work of their adversaries, alongside their durability towards harsh conditions and their fierce dedication to their leader.

But after a long while, their stalemate was broken, not by either side gaining control of the other, but by an outside party. A force to be reckoned with, a man who was brought back from the grave only to seek out his killer and finish the job.

He was known as the one who braved the Sierra Madre (even making it out alive with some of it's gold as well), the one who had met face to face with the former Malpais Legate: Joshua Graham; one who had taken part in the hazardous, yet somewhat outrageous, misadventures of Big Mountain (also known as the Big MT to others) and it's Think Tank before braving through and surviving the skin-rending, radiation-filled hellhole known as the Divide, his assumed nemesis' fate unknown to those who've heard the stories.

This man had taken both factions and brought them to their knees, usurping power from Mr. House, and forced the Legion back east, using not only his wits and weapons, but his remarkably infamous silver tongue. With the power given to him by both an army of Securitrons and a deal brokered by the NCR, he was now fit to rule over the city of New Vegas.

This man had many names since the Second Battle of the Hoover Dam, but he would always favor the first he was given, ever since Doc Mitchell brought him back from the dead.

This man was The Courier.

 **-oOo-**

It had been two years since the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, and even after the dust had settled, there were still grudges to be held.

More specifically, the Legion. Before the Courier took power over Vegas, he had performed many misdoings in the eyes of those that followed under the banner of the bull.

The first of the Courier's sins was after the sacking of Nipton. Vulpes and his legionnaires made short work of the town and spared the one who had won the "lottery", they had spotted a figure making it's way towards them. Wearing a vault suit with a familiar thirteen emblazoned on it's back, an old weathered 10mm in it's holster, and a 20 gauge in his hands, the stranger approached them, his eyes widened with horror and disgust.

A typical response for a profligate.

 _"Don't worry,"_ he had said, _"I won't have you lashed to a cross like the rest of these degenerates. It's useful that you happened by."_

Vulpes only received silence from the stranger. Good, most certainly out of fear.

 _"I want you to witness the fate of the town of Nipton, to memorize every detail. And then, when you move on? I want you to teach everyone you meet the lesson that Caesar's Legion taught here, especially any NCR troops you run across."_

More silence.

 _"So you won't talk? Good, that means you're listening. I want you to learn the lessons that have been taught here. That fact that they are weak and they are strong? I'm sure you know that already. No, it was their dissolution, their moral sickness, that made it a perfect example. It was a wicked and corrupt place, serving all, the sinners and weak alike, so long as they paid. They even had the gall to serve the men of the legion, a city of whores, so they had to be dealt with,"_ the legionnaire grinned wickedly at the stranger before turning away, _"So tell all of what happened, the sinners, the weak, the whores, the beggars, let them know that the Legion will come for them. And once you are finished, I will find you. So I now bid you "Vale"- until we meet again."_

The stranger knew he was both outgunned and outmanned, so he could do nothing but watched as the legionnaire walked away, his lackeys following behind him like the dogs that followed them.

It wasn't until he had finished his "meeting" with Benny where he ran into Vulpes again, standing in front of the Courier as soon as he exited The Tops casino.

 _"The eyes of the mighty Caesar are upon you. He admires your accomplishments, and bestows you the exceptional gift of his Mark,"_ the frumentarii had started, _"Any crimes you may have perpetrated against the Legion are hereby forgiven. Caesar will not extend this mercy a second time. My Lord requires your presence at his camp, at Fortification Hill. His Mark will guarantee your safe-conduct through our lands. Make your way to Cottonwood Cove, south of Nelson, and you will be brought before the mighty Caesar. We will be expecting your arrival."_

Vulpes turned on his heels and walked away, but had stopped when a voice emitted itself to him.

 _"_ ** _[_** ** _Terrifying Presence_** ** _]_** _No, only Caesar will be expecting me. You won't have the chance to make it back to base,"_ he turned around to see the now-dubbed "Courier" pressing the barrel of a pistol against his forehead. The gun had shined with a golden hue, a long intricate design of flowers covered the barrel. And on the handle of a gun was an image that Vulpes barely managed to make out.

The picture was that of a woman, her eyes closed and her head down, surrounded by golden light and covered in a green cloak with a yellow garb, and angel below her.

Vulpes had been transfixed by this picture for merely a half-second before he heard the sound of the pistol's hammer being pulled back. The legionnaire looked back at the man, who looked back at him with a look of disappointment on his face.

A gunshot sounded off from the pistol before being holstered by it's wielder, who watched as the body of the frumentarii crumpled to the ground, looking at the new hole that had made itself known at the base of Vulpes' forehead.

And that was only his first misdoing with the Legion.

His many sins would later be killing off camps throughout the wasteland, freeing slaves, and killing frumentarii that blended in with both New Vegas' and the New California Republic's many soldiers.

But his biggest and worst atrocity of all? Crossing Cottonwood Cove, storming the Fort of the Legion and killing all who stood in his path, and with the help of a cybernetic dog whom the ruler of the Legion had known before and a 1st recon marksmen of the NCR, they had put an end to Caesar's reign, his corpse sitting on his throne as a fifty-caliber had left the barrel of an anti-materiel rifle and into the tumor-ridden skull of Edward Sallow.

Ever since then, they had been led by an even more brutal leader: Lanius. And even then, he had been forced to retreat back east with just the words of the Courier himself.

These were the stories that the few survivors of the Second Battle had told, spreading the stories of "The One who killed the Fox".

Although the Courier was feared, that did not mean he wasn't deemed as a threat. Lanius had learned that the Courier was not someone to mess with, so he had to do something that seemed out of the ordinary even for some of the more seasoned members of the Legion.

Rather than just rush blindly into battle, the former Legate had been attempting to send scouts to the Mojave, trying to exploit a weakness in the city and take New Vegas for the mighty empire that had once stood against the weak and corrupt NCR.

Key word being "attempting". See, as Lanius sent scouts into the harsh desert, he grew more and more furious. His reasons being that they'd never come back. He started off with sending a small group of three, knowing that his legionnaires were strong enough to hold their own in combat.

They never returned, so he then sent a much larger group. Eighteen would most certainly be more than enough to survive whatever was killing his men.

And just like before, there was no news of them. When he had heard of this, Lanius grew enraged, but the Monster of the East was far from a savage, he had to keep a level mind if he wanted to best his adversary.

So one last time, he sent a group of seven. Neither too big to be conspicuous in the middle of the Mojave wasteland nor too small to fall to even the simplest of the wasteland's many abominations.

 **-oOo-**

 **September 20th, 2284.  
Gypsum Train Yard, East of New Vegas.  
Midday.**

It had been a bad day for Quintus, having to be chosen for the scouting party to New Vegas, much worse having to be the leader.

Like a majority of the Legion, he had once been a part of another tribe. His was called the Sun Geckos. A tribe from southern Utah born from Vault 91. The Vault's purpose was to test the effects of an airborne experimental steroid not unlike Psycho on a small population; the experiment was successful... slightly. It succeeded in giving strength, stamina, and senses to the inhabitants, but there was a side effect that caused seventy percent of the newborn population to suffer from deforming birth defects. Even worse, the negative effects of the steroid were passed on from the original vault dwellers to their children, whether they were deformed or not.

Once the Vault opened up after a century and a half of isolation, they were greeted by the Utah wasteland. There, they set up a community, usually hunters and farmers, nothing too special.

Then in 2264, Caesar's Legion made their presence known to his tribe, hearing rumors of a group of enhanced warriors after exposure to a special Vault.

To put it simply: when they were finished with his tribe, they were forced to render unto Caesar.

And now here he was, walking towards his death and having to bring a bunch of legionnaire foot soldiers to ease his fear of dying.

That was only the first of Quintus' problems. Second was the rumors of the other two scouting parties, never returning after an attempt to find a way for the Legion to exploit a way to storm Vegas for their own.

The legionnaire had also heard of the stories of the Courier. Some say he sported a special service rifle and the armor of an NCR ranger, yet did not bear their insignia; others told tales of him wearing the power armor of the old Enclave decades ago with a plasma rifle in his hands, yet the skeptical claimed to have seen him with nothing but a checkered suit and a golden gun, claimed to be picked off of a dead man.

The third problem was his own survival. Quintus knew that they couldn't fight the Courier, so he was guaranteed that the squad would die. But if there were any survivors who've never had the sense or fortune to die quickly in combat? Well, any dedicated/idiotic member of the Legion would walk back to the heart of their empire and plead forgiveness from Lanius, who was almost never on the forgiving side. He'd make an example of those that dared to show face after a defeat.

So it was a double-edged sword. Fight the Courier and you die, manage to survive an encounter and you still die, whether it be from Lanius' wrath or whatever the wasteland would throw you.

In the meantime, he would have to live his last moments talking down to the bunch of surviving idiots behind him.

"Would you all just shut up!" the legionnaire leader yelled at the remaining bickering group of foot soldiers.

At first there had been seven, but two were lost. The first was attacked by a swarming group of radscorpions, forcing them to progress further towards the heart of the Mojave through the Gypsum Train Yards of all places after having to cut around Lake Mead, which was riddled with Deathclaws (though most of them were dead, for some reason), adding to the fact that Camp Golf, which was an area filled with NCR soldiers, was right around the corner.

The second had the unfortunate chance of being found by a deathclaw, a blind one no less. At least his death was quick, getting killed by a pack of mutated scorpions wouldn't be considered a fast death, or a painless one.

Quintus turned around to see the remaining four behind him playing around with the helmet of a centurion which they had picked up probably half an hour ago. The idiot that picked it up had been wearing it for the rest of the travel.

The Legion soldier swore under his breath, these guys had the intelligence of the potatoes he used to grow back when he was a Sun Gecko, probably even more idiotic as his plants at least had the ability to grow under harsh conditions, while these guys' brains seemed to fry when exposed to the sun.

"Oh lighten up, Quintus! Just you wait, when we get to Vegas and tell Lanius of our success, we'll probably get a pick of his slaves," the one wearing the helmet laughed bombastically, "I know you've been gettin' a looksie at 'em."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about," the legionnaire answered monotonously, though the idiot was right, some of Lanius' slave women were in fact quite beautiful.

Well, that is when they still had their eyes in their sockets, at least.

Anyway, fantasies of Legion women aside, the group continued to make their way to Vegas for the next half hour, having to avoid deadly creatures such as lakelurks that have wandered a bit too far from their home, radscorpions, deathclaws, and the most feared creature in the wasteland: the cazador.

While the deathclaw has been seen in a majority of the old United States' wastelands, the cazador was an exclusive horror in the far west end of the former pre-war country. No one knows where they came from (though some think that the Courier himself might have a clue as to how they even exist), but they did know this: they are deadly, they are vicious, and they always came in swarms. Erratic in movements, and venomous through the use of their stingers, they left little to no survivors in their wake.

After another half hour of walking through the hard, burning sand, they finally came across the oasis of the Mojave, standing on the other side of a dilapidated highway: New Vegas itself.

Quintus had never been to the city, but he'd heard the stories before. Tales telling of a land filled to the brim with glittering light and color as far as the eye could see, and now he was standing before it! No wonder Legion soldiers act so awestru-

The legionnaire's thoughts were interrupted as his foot made contact with a rock that had found it's way in his path, not only gashing one of his toes, but also causing him to trip and take a tumble down a small hill. As he made his way to the bottom, Quintus was very much aware of the other Legion soldiers laughing at his misery; he groaned slightly and looked up to see the centurion-helmed legionnaire laughing at him and pointing their fingers.

Well, that is until his head suddenly exploded, showering the rest of the troops around his corpse in an explosion of red and grey goop. Both the corpse and the centurion helmet clattered to the ground, throwing up a small dust cloud of pale sand.

"Sniper! Get do- gah!" one of the legionnaires screamed before another shot tore through his chest, leaving a fist-sized hole where the part of his upper torso used to be.

The man was dead before he hit the ground.

Quintus did not dare to get back up, fearing that the next shot would belong to him.

"True to Caesar! For the Legio- GRAAGH!" the scout leader heard another scream as a bullet whizzed past his head and tore once more into the other legion soldier, finally silencing the legionnaire. After summoning the courage to finally look up, he found himself looking at the fleeing form of the last soldier.

That didn't last long, however, as another shot tore into the man's lower back, forcing the man to emit a grunt and fall to his knees. The legionnaire kneeled on the hard ground for only a matter of seconds before another bullet tore into his helmet and perforated his head before exiting and creating a miniature crater in the ground, blood spraying out of the wound as the last man fell onto the sun-baked earth.

The former scout leader laid on the ground, uncaring about the sun that beat down on him, or the scorching ground that tore into his skin like an army of fire ants, he knew that the next shot would be for him. His flinched as another shot flew past his head and smashed into the ground just a few inches beside his head.

After a few seconds of recollecting his thoughts, Quintus turned to look at the bullet that laid next to him in confusion. They could've fired at him, yet they didn't, in fact, they did the opposite.

They missed. The enemy had wiped out their entire group with well placed shots, and yet they missed.

Another shot fired, this time on the other side. The legionnaire suddenly realized that this had to have been done on purpose, they wanted him alive.

Cautiously, Quintus removed the nine millimeter pistol from his holster and tossed it to the side then proceeded to the unsheathe his machete and proceed to do the same. He then raised his arms above his head, trying to prove that he wasn't a threat to whoever was shooting at the legion soldiers around him.

 _'I surrender I surrender I surrender I surrend-'_ the man's thoughts were interrupted as he felt a sharp sting prick the side of his neck. His hand flew to his throat and grabbed whatever had stung him to get a look at whatever it was.

Quintus looked at the object in confusion, _'A dart? Why would they shoot me with a... ohh... now I...'_

The legionnaire's thoughts began to grow sluggish before he finally crumpled to the ground, the last thing he saw was a glint of light reflecting off the scope of a sniper rifle.

From the other side of the ruins, standing from the top of the Lucky 38 casino, two figures stood. The two, one being a man wearing a 1st recon NCR beret and a pair of sunglasses while holding a .308 caliber sniper rifle in his hand; while the other was a girl, no older than thirteen, with a scoped hunting rifle with both hands now gripped on the barrel and a pair of binoculars hanging from a string around her neck, watched as the man laid still on the barren ground.

"So... what do we do with him now?" the girl asked, looking at the man for an answer.

"I'll keep watch over him and make sure nothing tries to make dinner out of the scumbag," the man answered in a soft, yet raspy voice.

"What about me?" she asked, slinging her rifle over her shoulder and onto her back, "Not gonna leave me with a job to do?"

"Hmph," the man said in a combination of a grunt and a chuckle, "Tell Fitz that we've got another one, send a few securitrons to pick him up and take him away for interrogation."

"Ouch, isn't that a little harsh?" she cringed at the thought.

"He's just some Legion bastard, nothing's too harsh for them," he retorted before laying down, keeping his eye trained through the scope.

"Oh right... I forgot about that, sorry," the girl apologized, lowering her head slightly out of shame.

"It's alright, just inform Jack that we've got another legionnaire for questioning," the sniper responded.

"Didn't he leave for a trip to the Wyoming Wasteland? Something about a meeting with the New Mongols?" she asked.

"He made it back just an hour ago. He's making his way out of Freeside now," the man answered, lowering his rifle to get a look at the man who had just arrived to New Vegas.

The girl nodded, making her way to the hatch that led down into top floor of the Lucky 38 casino, "Okay, I'll get it done. Thanks Boone."

"You're welcome, Melody," Boone replied nonchalantly, peering through the scope of his rifle once more.

 **-oOo-**

Meanwhile, just before the entrance to the city of Vegas, were two individuals making their way to the door. One being a man and the other being a securitron with a cartoon smile on it's monitor.

The man was clothed in Desert Ranger combat armor, the duster's back displaying a picture of a black spade with a 21 emblazoned on the logo and the helmet's eyes glowing with a green light. On the man's back was a battered service rifle, the old wooden stock of the rifle bore a single word: Arrêt; in his holster was a pistol bearing shined floral designs, a picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe on the handle.

 **"Well Jack, now that we're back, I think it's safe to say that that went better than expected!"** the securitron cheered, following behind his master as they left Freeside to then open the door to New Vegas.

"Hmm," the man hummed, looking at the familiar city that he had grown accustomed to, "Yeah, you're right, Yes Man, the Khans may have been a bit... savage, but now that the New Mongols have been founded, they're actually acting like a proper nation.

And now that we have their support, our backup plan should be able to work greatly," Jack continued speaking with the one-wheeled robot.

 **"Wonderful! And I'm saying that not because I have to, it's well thought out and should have a failure rate of only 3.77798 percent. If we're assuming that Lanius could grow power in the Legion like rabbits grow litters, AND if the NCR has an ear on-"**

"Yes Man, you do realize we're not in the Lucky 38 yet, right?" the man asked, looking around to see if anyone was listening.

Luckily, no one was around, other than the... exotic dancers beside Gomorrah, though they were too busy making a living than to listen in on someone's conversation, even someone like him.

Jack Fitz was, after all, the Courier.

 _'Speaking of luckily,'_ Jack thought, pressing a hand to his collarbone to feel the necklace under his shirt that held the platinum chip by the thin rope that coiled between hole that had been made in the poker chip earlier, _'Really have to ask myself more often how I'm still alive.'_

If Yes Man actually had functioning eyes rather than a computer screen and an optical lens to actually see, they would be widening right about now.

 **"Oh, I'm sorry if I talked a bit too much, it's just that my circuits are just beaming with excitement! I can't stop being happy, causing me to continue rambling on and on! Not just because of my programming, seeing New Vegas now independent just fills me with... well, happiness,"** Yes Man exclaimed, though his answer sounded a bit forced.

Ever since the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, Yes Man decided to power off and make a few changes to his programming, telling the Courier that this change will make him more... assertive, to say the least. At first, this worried the man, feeling that Yes Man would be able to control the Securitrons and turn them against him.

Fortunately for him, that never crossed the machine's technological mind. Instead, his new programming just meant that he wouldn't be able to be manipulated by anyone who had such intentions. Yes Man was a follower, like every other securitron, and he would follow Jack to his last metaphorical breath.

The two turned left and made their way up the long and wide steps to the Lucky 38 Casino, one walking while the other rolled up the stair steps.

Just as the Courier was about to open the door to the place that he had called home ever since the Second Battle, another securitron made it's way towards him, it's semi-bright screen displaying a cartoon picture of a man wearing a military-esque helmet.

 **"Sir, we've received a message from the New California Republic, they require you to attend a meeting regarding the New Vegas Treaty,"** the machine said immediately as soon as it approached Jack.

"Tell them that I'm too busy actually taking care of the citizens of New Vegas, not _just_ residents with NCR citizenship, repeat that to Ambassador Crocker in those exact words," Jack commanded, his voice calm yet subtly harsh underneath given the circumstances, before continuing to make his way back to the door leading inside the Casino.

After the Second Battle, another deal was made with the New California Republic, one that was more strict and controlled now that New Vegas had leader with a name and face to follow under. With House out of the picture and Jack's experiences through the Mojave and beyond, his experience and knowledge had made him the appropriate, though slightly cynical, leader to bring the city of Vegas, including the outer areas that made up Freeside, to a new age, a golden age.

The Golden Age of Vegas. Though such a vision required time, resources, and patience, all things that the Courier possessed. Time coming from his younger age, resources coming from places and people that are willingly under Mister Fitz's influence (Goodsprings, Primm, Novac, the Cassidy Caravans, the now-rebuilt Nipton, and the newly-retaken Nelson, to name a few), and patience, being one of the Courier's many virtues, otherwise he would've given up on Benny, Vegas, Sierra Madre's treasures, and Big MT in general before putting another bullet into his skull, this time doing a better job than that black and white checker-suited prick and actually using a higher caliber.

A Ranger Sequoia _**may**_ have done the trick, if that didn't work then he'd have to eat Red Glare.

Jack watched as the robot disappeared from his sight, fading into the patrols of other securitrons that secured the streets of the ever expanding city. The Courier turned back to the building in front of him before pushing open the door.

The man was then greeted by the brightly-lit casino floor of the Lucky 38, a small group of Securitrons each stood at the corners of the room, their sensitive cameras seeing all in their sights. A collection of people all wearing similar attire paced around the room, various weapons such as rifles, assault rifles, pistols, police batons, laser and plasma weapons alike in their hands.

Before then, there were just the Three Families of New Vegas: the Chairmen, the Omertas, and the White Glove Society; though after the Second Battle, another Family was formed: the Samaritans, lead by their leader, the one and only Courier.

A month after the battle, Jack had decided that, although he now had an entire army of Securitrons at his fingertips, it needed a more... _human_ touch. From what the Courier had known, the machines that he's witnessed and had gone toe-to-toe with did not have the ability to comprehend as much as the human mind does.

What he meant was that each robot/android/synthetic organisms that Jack's seen was only able to learn whatever was limited to them (though Yes Man could, debatably, be an exception. The Think Tank, on the other hand, were human brains kept in floating mechanical chambers, so they were not part of the subject. Roxie and Rex were in the same category as the scientists of Big MT, though with a bit more canine flare.).

So the Samaritans were formed, taking part in defending New Vegas and the rest of the Mojave that wasn't settled by the NCR via the New Vegas Treaty, their key features being either their navy blue tuxedos with a pin of a spade with a 21 over it or their combat armor bearing the same color scheme and logo.

To this day, only a meager eighty wastelanders of varying cultures and intentions have joined the Samaritans, a small number when compared to a majority of the factions that made up both the Three Families and the two superpowers that had recently battled for the shining City of Sin. As soon as they caught sight of their leader, they nodded slightly and waved to him in welcome, some of them greeting him with a 'welcome back' or 'it's great to see you again, sir'.

Before Jack could press the button on the elevator to descend and take him back up, he heard a chime and watched as the doors slid open, revealing a girl standing in the middle of the elevator floor.

"Mister Fitz! I was just looking for you, great to see that you're back! I've got some news from Boone," the girl smiled, revealing a set of clean white teeth, which was a rare thing to see in a world like this.

This girl was Melody, a girl he had rescued during his raid on the Legion's Fort two years back, just before he had taken part in the wild misadventures of Big MT. Melody had been a child slave in the Legion all her life, her mother killed by the Legion once she had exhausted her purpose. At first, Jack's intentions was to take Melody to the NCR and place her under their protection, but then something strange happened between the two of them.

She had cried as they made their way to the NCR embassy, holding onto his leg with one hand while clutching her "Sergeant Teddy" close to her chest with the other as they were just a metre away from the door, causing quite a scene and maybe an awkward moment for any NCR troops that may have been around him and the little girl.

Thus began a sort of father-daughter relationship. After Mr. House was relieved of his duties as de facto leader of New Vegas, the casino became their new home. Alongside the Courier being her surrogate father, he also acted as her mentor, using whatever was taught to him by Sunny Smiles (he'd have to remember to thank her later for that) and whatever he had learned on his own journey through the Mojave.

Such methods of training included surviving off the land (healing powder was a big must to live through the conditions of the Mojave), explosives (he made sure to use dummy grenades so she wouldn't end up with an imploded crater for a face), hand-to-hand combat, marksmanship (letting her use an old BB gun that he had carried with him a long time ago before moving onto live fire).

And after two years, the results spoke for themselves. Standing before him was a girl now entering the age of thirteen, with black hair tied back in a ponytail, a scoped hunting rifle slung over her back, clothed in an old armored Vault Suit, and a battered Pip-Boy 3000 clinging to her left wrist, previously owned by a Vault dweller, which was then taken by Ricky (though it had been broken at the time), which was then oh-so graciously donated to Jack before proceeding to fix it back up and give to Melody as a gift.

"Melody, what did I tell you?," Jack smirked, ruffling the girl's hair before entering the elevator alongside her, "Just call me Jack."

He watched as the girl blushed in embarrassment before looking back up at him, "Alright then... Jack."

The Courier looked at the smiling securitron in front of him, "Yes Man, I'll need you to keep me updated on any more news that you may come across."

 **"On it, boss,"** the robot responded optimistically, attempting to salute with it's robotic arm before turning around and rolling away. Jack watched as the machine exited the building and closed the door behind him.

As Yes Man left the casino, Jack pressed a button on the elevator's panel. As soon as the door closed and the elevator began to ascend, Jack spoke, "You said you had news from Boone?"

"Yep, we found another group of legion pricks, we took them out and sent a team of securitrons to bring in the survivor for questioning," Melody nodded, briefing her surrogate father on what had happened earlier.

"Who's leading the interrogation?" he inquired, popping his the bones in his neck as they were a bit stiff.

"I'll give you three guesses... and the first two don't count," she raised an eyebrow as she looked at him once more.

"Fucking hell..." Jack slowly ran a hand down his face in exhaustion, "I almost feel bad for the guy."

"Hah! Almost," the girl guffawed, not noticing that the Courier had began moving the knobs on his Pip-Boy, moving the screen to "APPAREL" and selecting his signature outfit as soon as the door to the elevator slid open, emitting a ding as the two stepped out of the lift. The Courier now wore a black and white checkered suit with a black tie and grey slacks rather than his Desert Ranger combat armor.

As soon as the two stepped out of the elevator, they were immediately greeted by one of Jack's Samaritans, a ghoul with a laser RCW in his hands, "Hey boss, you're back!"

"Yep, glad to know I'm feelin' the love here," Jack grinned, shaking the ghoul's gloved hand.

"Well, I got some news for you... we got another one."

The Samaritan caught sight of Jack's features as the man frowned slightly. Short, yet disheveled light brown hair covered the top of his head, a pair of cobalt-blue eyes filled with concern, with scars given by harsh sands and gunfire shifted alongside his visible frown.

"Did you play it?" he asked.

"Nah, didn't bother to, it said something about a code word," the ghoul shrugged his shoulders before he continued to speak, "I don't want this to sound weird, but the voice that came out of the thing sounded... well, like you."

"Just scrap it, I need more parts for ED-E anyway," the Courier waved off as they walked further onto the floor they've been taken to.

The Samaritan nodded, "Got it boss, I'll make sure to find Raul to get the job done."

"Good. By the way, where is that sombrero-wearin' son of a gun off to now?" Jack stopped for a second and asked, trying to lighten the mood somewhat.

"Dunno, the man's like a uh... a... what's that word? A superhero or somethin'? Like some 'un out of a comic book."

"A vigilante?"

"Yeah, that's the word. He just pops in to say hi before leaving to fight some more Raiders and slavers or whatever the hell the crazies out there are doin' these days. Heh, sure saves us a lot of time and trouble with his help, one of our boys would've died from a Cazador sting if it wasn't for 'im," the ghoul smiled that... ghoulish smile before sauntering off, whistling a tune as he continued his job as part of security.

"Well, Mark seems to be in a good mood today," Melody observed the ghoul Samaritan as he continued to walk away.

"Either he's on Jet, or he got lucky at the Atomic Wrangler," he smirked.

"Ew... don't put that thought in my head!" the Courier looked down to see the girl beside him as she cringed slightly, "Anyway, how was Wyoming?"

"Pfft hahaha... terrible, did y'know they actually have deathclaws with hair on 'em?" Jack asked her.

"Bullshit," she crossed her arms over her chest and frowned, "You know that hairy deathclaws are a myth, right?"

"Who knows, maybe there is. But I sure as hell won't see one in my lifetime," the man chuckled as he walked down the stairs of the penthouse and taking a seat near the oversized window, pulling a bottle of unopened whiskey that had sat on a nearby table closer to him. Melody watched as the man opened the bottle and lifted it to his lips, wincing somewhat at the taste before putting it back on the table.

"Bad day?" she asked.

"Very bad day," the man responded, "I'm juggling the Legion's attempted raids, the NCR's bullshit excuse for diplomacy, and the fact that I almost screwed up my deal with the New Mongols."

"Wait, didn't Papa Khan make you a member of the Great Khans? That'd give you an advantage, right?"

"Yes it would, but he passed away last month," the man lowered his head in respect, Melody doing the same as well.

"Shit... was it fast at least?"

"Consumption," Jack shook his head before taking another sip of alcohol, "Horrible way to go."

The girl cringed at the thought. Even after centuries of barren wasteland, diseases like tuberculosis still managed to survive.

"Anyway, the past is in the past. As the french once said, _'c'est la vie'_ ," the Courier shook his head, pushing the bottle away from him.

"That's life," Melody repeated, nodding in understanding.

Before the two could delve deeper into their conversation, they heard the chime of the elevator sound off. Exiting from the lift was Boone, making a steady beeline towards the Courier before stopping in front of him.

"Craig, it's good to see you again," Jack nodded, turning his head to see the sniper's unchanged face.

"Jack, I'm finished with interrogating the prisoner," the man said, unconsciously rubbing his now sore knuckles, "I think it's best that you see him for yourself."

The Courier fell silent as he gazed at the wall in front of him, almost as though he was in a trance for a matter of seconds before finally speaking, "Is there anything specific that he wants to tell me? Any useful information that we might benefit from?"

Boone shook his head, "No, all he knows is that the Legate sent him to find a weakness to Vegas and exploit it. Other than that, that's all he knows."

"Well, shit..." the leader of New Vegas muttered, "Did we get another Legion fanatic or something new?"

"If I'm to make an educated guess telling from what he said-" Boone started, causing Melody to stifle a laugh, only to be met with a glare from the former NCR marksman, "He doesn't want to be a part of the Legion anymore, making him either really smart, or a coward."

"Huh, that's new, all the other legionnaires we questioned were just blind fanatics to a glorified 'no-girls allowed' club," Jack quipped, managing to earn a laugh from the girl beside him, and an almost hidden grin from Boone, "What's different about this one? Don't you usually have a 'kill on sight' rule with those nutjobs anyway, other than the occasional prisoner that you'd later get rid of once you're done with him?"

He nodded, "Yeah, but unlike the others, this one said he never liked the Legion to begin with."

"And you have reason to believe him?" the Courier cocked an eyebrow in suspicion.

"First time I've heard one of them have doubts."

"Frumentarii," Jack rebutted.

"Lanius," Boone countered.

They watched as he stood up and dusted off any 'dust' that could've accumulated on his checkered suit, "Good point. Either way, I'll go and see what makes our guest so different from the others."

Both the sniper and the girl followed suit as Jack made his way to the elevator, muttering something about 'never having breaks' before stepping into the machine as soon as it opened up. As they all stepped in, Jack pressed one of the buttons on the panel, watching as the metal box that surrounded them finally closed off and descended deep below the unseen rooms of the Lucky 38.

 **-oOo-**

 **September 20th, 2284.  
Lucky 38 Basement.  
Midday.**

Quintus continued to keep his head lolled back, his face riddled with bruises after his meeting with his interrogator.

Like many other stories that the Legion had secretly spread throughout their ranks, one tale told of a sniper that had served under the NCR. A man who held a burning hatred for all that had to do with the Legion. No legionnaire survived an encounter with this new bogeyman of the Mojave, but those that had taken part in the Second Battle of Hoover Dam and retreated alongside Lanius spoke of a man wearing a red beret, his eyes obscured by sunglasses and a scoped hunting rifle slung over his back.

And just an hour ago, he had just met the man whom the stories had told of.

Needless to say, it wasn't pretty, given how the former legionnaire scout leader felt right now. Because he believed that he was in a state of hell right about now. The legionnaire sat on a wooden chair, his hands bound behind the chair with a pair of rusty handcuffs, giving him nowhere to go.

Finally taking the time to look at his surroundings, Quintus looked up to see the room he was currently in. Surrounded by dry grey brick walls, a solid rock floor, and a single lightbulb dimly illuminating the entire room.

The door in front of him was closed, but he heard a noise, one that sounded like a bit like a chime. Quintus' ears strained as he tried to pick up the noise.

Footsteps. Now he heard they were making their way towards his room now.

The door opened up, Quintus watched as a man stepped into the room. The person before him wore a checkered monochrome-styled suit and grey slacks, his polished black shoes tapping rhythmically against the floor as he approached the legionnaire. Around his wrist was an old Pip-Boy 3000 lit up with amber light. Behind him was the man with the red beret and a young girl behind him.

For some reason, she looked familiar. Formerly one of the slaves? Probably.

The man leaned over, getting a look at Quintus from the dim light, cocking his head to the side in intrigue. Quintus gulped instinctively, unsure of what was going to happen to him.

"Do you know why you're still alive?" the man asked, a devious smile played about his lips.

He stood back up and looked at the legionnaire, "Because my friend here-" he motioned to the man beside him, "Thinks that you're different from all the others that we've questioned, which really surprises me-"

The checker-suited man withdrew a cigar from the pocket in his suit and lit it with a lighter bearing a picture of a woman wearing a lewd angel costume engraved on both of it's sides, inhaling from the stick of tobacco and blowing the smoke into the boy's face, causing him to erupt into a coughing fit, "-because he enjoys killing guys like you on the daily. So when he says that there's something different about you and decides not to kill you, it interests me as well."

When the man had removed the cigar from his suit, it shifted slightly to reveal the pistol hidden underneath, shining dimly in a sort of macabre beauty.

Once Quintus' coughing began to die down, he spoke, "I-I was part of another tribe. I played along, doing my best to survive in their world, and so far it's done me good."

"What was your rank in the Legion? Ever killed anyone, NCR or the like?" the man asked before extinguishing the rest of the cigar into his Pip-Boy glove, his face remained unchanged.

The boy shook his head, "No, I was a blacksmith."

"Really? And why would Lanius send you of all people when he could've just sent someone who could actually perform decent reconnaissance?" the suited man demanded.

"We were expendable, Lanius wouldn't risk sending professionals if he knew they were going to die," Quintus answered, "He sends them to bring back useful information in order to build up the Legion even more by conquering any nearby tribes."

At the mention of Lanius, he turned to see the girl beside the man scowl at the name, her eyes watering slightly but managed to hold them back. Did she have a past with the Legate?

"But between you and me," the legionnaire said, "There's conflict going on _in_ the Legion, some sort of civil war happening between the Legion that supports Lanius and those that don't. It's tearing itself apart and now, I want out."

"Oh, I already knew that. The late Caesar's Legion'll probably last several months, at most," he replied, shaking his head before leaning in close, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, "Now, I want to see the both of us as friends in the near future, I really do, kid, but you're going to have to give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you myself."

Quintus' eyes widened in panic as he watched the man remove the pistol from within his suit, thumbing the safety and pulling back the hammer before pointing it at his head.

"Y-you don't have to kill me, I n-never wanted to be a part of the Legion, I was forced into it!" Quintus yelled, hoping to find any mercy from the man's pale blue eyes. The man wearing the beret remained unchanged, while the girl raised an eyebrow out of concern, whether it be for him or his new interrogator, he'd never know.

"Sorry, old sport, but I've heard that story too many times to even count," he raised an eyebrow, "Yet those that were forced into it became loyal members. Case in point: every other legionnaire we've interrogated, try again."

The legionnaire may not have been the smartest man in the world, but he'd be damned if he had to take the way out alive that would seem the most reasonable.

"I'll join you if you don't kill me!" he yelled, "L-look, you're friend said that I was different, right? Well, Lanius had gotten rid of the frumentarii in place for more warriors. There's no way I could be a spy or betray you, all I want is to live!"

The man failed to waver, though his head cocked to the side, "Really? You'd swear allegiance to Caesar's Legion's adversary?"

"Adversary? What're you..." Quintus was about to ask until it finally dawned on him, "Y-you're the Courier!"

"The one and only, kiddo," his grin widened even further, which continued to terrify Quintus even more so due to the gun still not changing in direction, "Now would you really want to work for me? If so, then I'll guarantee you that it'll be tough, it'll be painful, and it will surely bring hell upon you... and I'm only talking about the initiation."

"Better to die here than from Lanius," Quintus said, calming down slightly as the newly-discovered Courier lowered his pistol, holstering it.

"Alright then."

"Wait, really?" the legionnaire asked, surprised by what had just transpired.

"Yeah, of course, but you're not **_just_** working for me. If I wanted a legionnaire to work for me, he's going to need a teacher, preferably someone who's skilled in killing them," the Courier looked to the other man, who had was holding an almost unnoticeable smirk that reeked of sadism, "Boone, are you in the mood for a new recruit?"

"Hmph, depends on if he survives," the man known as 'Boone' spoke, removing his machete and shattering the rusty links that had bound the legionnaire's hands in one fell swoop.

Quintus watched as the Courier began to leave the room, the girl following close behind him, "Goodbye, I'll see you soon, old sport... if you survive, that is."

 _'What did I get myself into now?'_ the legionnaire thought as Boone began to lead him somewhere else, the man's hunting rifle pointed dangerously close to his back as they began moving.

 **-oOo-**

"Was all that really necessary?" Melody asked, striding beside her surrogate father as they exited out the elevator, now on the ground floor.

"He's a legionnaire, Melody. You know what they did to you," his sadistic persona dropped and was replaced by a more paternal demeanor, "Whether he was telling the truth or not, Boone's initiation would test if he's actually loyal or not. Either he's a damn good liar or actually telling the truth, even I wasn't Perceptive enough to tell if he was lying or not."

"How does the Black Jack initiation tell if he's loyal?" Melody asked, trying to evade her previous affiliations with the Legion.

"If he makes a run for Caesar's territory, Boone would make sure the problem is solved. Otherwise, he just needs to stay out of Boone's crosshairs," Jack answered, "Anyway, now that my job's done for now, I have something else to take care of."

"What is it?" she asked, concerned by the sudden news.

"I received an encryted broadcast from the Remnants. It seems that Arcade and the rest of the old-timers near Jacobstown have something important that they have to tell me," he said, looking down at his Pip-Boy and tapping at the constantly moving radio waves on the screen, "It says that it has something to do with the-"

Jack looked over both of his shoulders, making sure no one was listening in on their conversation, before turning back and leaning closer to the girl's ear.

" _-The Enclave,"_ he whispered before leaning back, standing up straight.

Melody nodded in understanding, "Okay Jack, just... just come back in one piece, alright?"

The Courier gave the girl a two-fingered mock salute, "You know what I always say?"

" _Don't shoot at the messenger... or else he'll shoot back,_ " the girl repeated before wrapping her arms around his torso, embracing the man in a tight hug.

"Melody, I know I always say I love you... but you're _kinda_ crushing my ribs!" the Courier wheezed before she finally let go of him, taking a long inhale before patting the girl on the head and walking away.

"Won't be long," Jack said as he walked out the door.

 _'Christ, she has her father's_ _strength_!' he said, clutching at his sides before pulling out a stimpak and sticking it into his waist, releasing a long sigh as any potential bruises began to disappear.

As the Courier left the Strip, making his way out of Freeside, he had walked by the School of Impersonation, where Rex rested beside the King himself; strode past the Old Mormon Fort, where Julie Farkas and the rest of the Followers tended to the sick and wounded; leaving the entrance to Freeside and making his way across the Gun Runners shop, where Vendortron continued selling firearms of the highest quality.

While Jack started his journey towards Jacobstown, changing out of Benny's old suit and into the combat apparel of his Desert Ranger armor, the Survivalist's rifle held in both hands, his right hand left the rifle and reached towards his Pip-Boy, turning the knobs on the old gadget on his wrist.

At first, there was silence for the first few seconds, until music finally came through from the machine.

~ _I was walking along, mindin' my business, when out of an orange-colored sky...~_

"Mojave Music never gets old," Jack said to himself with a small smile, humming along to the music as he made his way to the Remnant's Bunker, _'If only James had the time to see this...'_

And so the Courier continued his travels to meet with Arcade and the old Remnants of the Enclave. With barely a care in the world.

 _Barely, being the key word._

* * *

 **Disclaimer: And so there goes the second chapter of** **Sand and Steel** **, hope you lads and ladies enjoyed the chapter, as I will be making more chapters for each of my stories soon.**

 **Now, I know how I painted the Courier in the first chapter as an 'Immediate Evil Karma' character, but there's a reason why our Mister Jack Fitz acts more neutral... and why he doesn't bear the same last name as James. All will be revealed in the (eventual) future.**

 **For those of you who don't know, Melody actually is a character from Fallout: New Vegas, there's a side quest for her where you have find her old teddy bear "Sergeant Teddy" and return to her... or you can be a total dick and do something more cold-hearted to gain fame for Caesar's Legion.**

 **Anyone wondering why Melody reacted negatively to Lanius... no, he didn't rape her, you sick, demented nobs.**

 **AND! For those who are put off by the character known as "Quintus". Don't worry, he plays a very,** _ **very,**_ _ **VERY**_ **minute role in the entirety of the story. If you want to see more of him... well, I'll, uh... I'll see what I can do.**

 **As for the Samaritans, well... there's the Ultra-Luxe's White Glove Society, Gomorrah's Omertas, and the Top's Chairmen, so it seemed fair that the Courier wanted to have his own 'Family' to add for the Lucky 38 since he's not so enigmatic or as secretive as Mr. House. (Sarcasm) Now all that's left is for Vault 21 to do the same.**

 **For anyone wondering when the RWBY part of the story will appear: be patient, this takes time.**

 **I was honestly hoping to release this on the Fourth of July and have the Courier do something cool with Red Glare, but I digress.**

 **Anyways, if you have a question regarding this story, leave a review and I'll make sure to answer it in the next chapter.**

 **And as always, stay beautiful, ladies and gents.**


	3. Chapter 3: Two Sides, Same Coin

**AN : Sorry that this took so long to make, this is what I get for trying to keep track with four stories at once. It's like an anime with a harem plot: good and all in theory, messy and often murderous in reality. **

**Nevertheless, this story is not dead and is, in fact, still alive. Sorry if I couldn't update any sooner.**

* * *

 **Comments :**

 **Guest : Well... it was already part of the game when I wrote this.**

 **edboy4926 : Fallout 4 is good, but not great. Compare it to the other two and it is easily dwarfed in terms of plot and lore.**

 **King Edgar:** **Goddammit Edgar, not again.**

 **The Baz:** **James won't just abandon the Capital Wasteland just to catch up with his brother. To James, duty comes before family.**

 **And you're right, gotta include Lily in there somewhere.**

 **Betabomber : Pretty much, and sure. **

* * *

**Now, onto the story!**

 **AD VICTORIAM!**

* * *

 **I own neither Fallout or RWBY.**

 _"A strange game... the only winning move is not to play."_

 _-War Games (1983); on the subject of total Nuclear War._

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Two Sides; Same Coin**

 **September 30th, 2284.  
Enclave Vault, somewhere in Delaware.**

James watched as the vault door before him slid back before slowly revolving open, revealing the first room of the base. The man cautiously stepped into the vault's entrance, the boots of his power armor touching cold steel as his eyes scanned through the dusty area around him. The Lone Wanderer lowered his laser rifle before raising his hand and flicking his hand forward, two fingers raised and pointed to the hallway, "All clear."

"Hmph, was itchin' for a fight, Jamie-boy," Butch replied, lowering his 10mm submachine gun and holstering it on his hip, "Now what? We just mosey on in and hope for the best?"

"Doubt it," the Lone Wanderer responded, handing Butch a Radaway pack, "But even if there was, we have to be careful for any unwanted surprises. Understand?"

The 'Tunnel Snake' paused for a brief moment before nodding, "Yeah, I gotcha. Want me to get the others while you're snooping around?"

"Yes, just be careful with Clover, she can be a bit... handsy."

"Buddy, I ain't complainin' with 'handsy'," Butch shook his head before walking away.

After he had gathered all of his companions, the man had made his way to the Citadel to be debriefed on his mission. What both surprised and unnerved him was when he got there, seeing the changes within management. Many had grown used to seeing Fawkes walking about the place, though some were a bit on the twitchy side as they were revealed to be Brotherhood Outcasts. Eventually, James found out that Sarah Lyons had been killed in battle, replaced by a younger, more driven leader, one he had known when the boy wasn't even a teenager at the time.

This boy's name was Arthur Maxson.

Arthur had explained that a vault had been discovered just on the outskirts of Delaware, sending a distress signal that used terminology that was awfully similar to Enclave code. Before any measures could be taken, Arthur had instead decided to use someone with a... special skillset in dealing with the Enclave. Presumably one who had led the Brotherhood on an assault against the soldiers who had taken residence in the Jefferson Memorial, leading a giant nuke-throwing robot alongside him.

With an individual with such influence as that, he would be a suitable candidate to investigate this anomaly. With Jay out of the question, James was chosen, as well as those that accompanied him throughout the twins' journey throughout the Capital Wasteland.

After their conversation had ended, Maxson had left him with one last thing to say before James could leave.

 _"Ad Victoriam,"_ the boy had said, the jagged scar across his face making him appear much older than he seemed to be.

In all honesty, James had a feeling that the Brotherhood would prosper under his leadership. It seemed that Arthur had an air of command surrounding him ever since his accomplishments had been brought to the Lone Wanderer.

Nevertheless, they had been given two day's worth of preparations before they can depart, so they made the best of scrounging about the wasteland for any ammunition that might serve well on the trip. Though the eight-day journey was tough and perilous, they had managed to make it with little injury, having to face the occasional raider or feral ghoul every now and then.

James looked down to see Dogmeat beside him, the canine panting before yawning and closing it's mouth, looking up at the man with curious eyes.

"Come on, Dogmeat, we got work to do," he said, the servos in his suit whirring as he treaded through the empty room and into the next, having to first hack into a terminal and input the correct password. The man waited as the rest of his group finally caught up with the two.

The first to greet them was Charon, with the rest of the group following close behind, shotgun clutched in both hands, "Alright boss, what's the plan?"

"You and Cross'll scout ahead of us. If there's anything hostile, shoot it. If there's anything that looks even a bit important, you bring it to me," James motioned to the ghoul.

"I don't mean to question your plan, boss," Charon responded, motioning to the Star Paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel who was standing nearby, "But I doubt the smoothskin in the tin suit'll play nice with someone of my... appearances."

The Star Paladin only stepped forward, glancing at the ghoul before turning to the Lone Wanderer, "Don't worry, James, I'll work along with the ghoul. As long as he can keep up."

"Good," he said before turning to the rest of the group, "Alright, this applies to all of you as well. Each of you will be split up into groups before heading deeper into the vault. Dogmeat and Butch will follow after and take an alternate route, along with Fawkes and Jericho, and Clover and RL-3 doing the same. Is that understood?"

There was a short murmur across the group, though some didn't bother complaining.

"I'll take that as a yes," James turned and headed towards a flight of stairs heading up, "Once everything's said and done, we regroup at the entrance and explain our findings. If there's anyone still living in this vault, do not open fire unless they attack first... unless one of them has a Fatman aimed at you, by all means, go right ahead."

Even Jericho had to stifle a laugh at that little humorous bit.

"What about you, handsome?" Clover's lips parted to reveal a set of teeth to match the grinning smile of a bloodthirsty raider, or Jericho for that matter, "While the rest of us are poking about like it's nobody's business, what're you doin'?"

"I have to head to the Overseer's office and see what info I can pull from this place. If I'm right, then their office might be the most fortified as well," the Lone Wanderer shifted his rifle in his hands slightly, "Someone's gotta do the hard job."

"Good luck, James, I hope you come back safe," Fawkes nodded at the man, who returned his action with a mock salute.

James watched as the group disappeared further into the tunnels. The Lone Wanderer brought up his Pip-Boy to eye level and switching to the map of the Vault, this assumed safe haven for the Enclave. The map seemed to have only shown a long zigzag of hallways, an intricate maze to rival that of the Greek protagonist Daedalus' Labyrinth, but in reality, it also revealed a shortcut to the Overseer's office, a hidden walled off area marked only by a set of dotted lines across a narrow hallway.

If he finds the hidden path, he'll find the shortcut.

"Alright, Vault 4," the Lone Wanderer said to himself, "Let's see what secrets you have hiding for me," the man made his way up the stairs, the steps creaking underneath the weight of his power armor before disappearing into the hallway.

 **-oOo-**

 **September 30th, 2284.  
Enclave Fortification, somewhere in California. **

For only a matter of seconds, Arcade Gannon's hands danced across the keyboard of the security system's computers before entering the final command. The door creaked for only a few seconds before finally opening, "Alright, Jack, we're in."

Jack strode beside the doctor before clapping and hand onto the man's shoulder, "Nice to know I can always rely on your skills, Arcade."

"Oh really? I always assumed that you were just bringing me along for my good looks and flirtatious demeanor," the youngest Enclave Remnant deadpanned, though it was a bit hard to tell with his Tesla armor covering his body.

Good thing Jack was an avid listener.

"Well, that's one of the perks," the Courier snarked back before tapping a button on the side of his helmet, the lenses on his helmet flashed into a bright green, "And now you're sure that this is the place, right?"

"Have I ever been wrong?"

"I can count some of the mistakes you've made on our little misadventures on one hand, and those are only the errors you've made when you know I was directly watching."

"On second thought, there's always such thing as a human error," the good doctor hastily replied before resuming his previous composure, "But yes, I'm sure. We used the old Enclave base near Jacobstown, the geographical map on the Remnant's repaired vertibird, and a jury-rigged ham radio at the Enclave's old base near an oil rig to triangulate the position of the distress beacon. The beacon itself had gone a bit haywire and bounced all over the place, before we were able to pinpoint where it was coming from."

The Courier looked up at the building: a mid-sized two-story gunmetal grey building leading to an upwards floor. Rust lined the edges of the steel that made up the buildings structuring, exposed by dull ash-colored brick. Despite that fact that the building had a floor above the main one, Jack knew that there was more to it than that. Because as far as he's known for quite a while: the most valuable items hide away in the most hard-to-reach spots... speaking with experience due to Sierra Madre's gold, Randall Clark's armor and rifle from Zion, just about everything in Big Mountain and the Divide, seeing as the entire place had everything hard to reach anyway with just about everything wanting to kill you in that hellhole.

Besides, Enclave loved hiding things away in big mountainous layers of dirt, gravel, and rock. Take the Enclave Remnants' bunker and Raven Rock for instance.

Jack nodded as he processed what Arcade had told him, "Fair enough. While I go get the others, I'll need you to go inside and see if you can dig up any information on this place."

His only response was the man removing the plasma rifle from his back and holding the weapon in both hands, giving the Courier a subtle nod before progressing inside. Meanwhile, Jack spun on his heels and headed back towards an abandoned gas station just not too far ahead, meeting up with his other companions and a small platoon of Samaritan troopers.

When the Courier had arrived to the Enclave bunker near Jacobstown, the Remnants had explained that a distress call had been made just several days ago for unknown reasons. Jack, being the good Samaritan that he was, decided to take it upon himself to do their job for them. So he asked for Arcade's assistance in bringing together the rest of the group; Rex was already with the Kings, Boone was busy overlooking the rest of the Samaritans, ED-E was wandering Primm, Lily was herding bighorners in Jacobstown, Raul was in his shack repairing some appliances every now and then, Cass was at the NCR embassy in Vegas, while Veronica was in the old hidden bunker housing the west chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel.

Afterwards, Boone was ordered to bring a group of what he could consider the finest troops from the Lucky 38's security, choosing a total of thirteen just to play it safe.

What? It payed well to be overprepared for such a situation.

"Did it work?" Veronica, who had been sitting on a broken vending machine that had fallen on it's side, asked.

"Worked like a charm, Elder Santangelo," Jack winked at her before pulling off his helmet and setting both it and his rifle, Medicine Stick, to the side before straightening up and turning to the rest of the group.

The hooded girl inhaled sharply, glaring at the man with a look of irritation, "You really know how much I hate it when you call me that?"

Jack only proceeded to grin at her before turning to the rest of the group, "I'm sure you already know, old sport."

Though the Courier had his back turned, he already knew she was childishly pouting at his response, though that didn't matter right now.

Sometime after the Brotherhood of Steel's incident with the Followers of the Apocalypse and the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, Jack managed to pull enough strings and favors to instate Veronica as Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel after treachery had been committed against Elder McNamara regarding an incident with Head Paladin Hardin. So far, there hasn't been much change, due to the Brotherhood's stubborn ideals, but she was making progress.

"So the area is secure?" Boone asked, standing in front of the rest of the platoon with his arms crossed over his chest and his rifle hanging from his back.

"As far as Arcade can tell, the place is safer than Sierra Madre's vault," Jack confirmed, motioning with his head to the aforementioned building.

"So what's the plan?" Cass asked, the dear Whiskey Rose of John Cassidy leaning against the wall, her rifle lying on the wall adjacent to her.

"Simple: we go in and see what's causing that distress call. If there's nothin' inside worth our time, we mosey on out of here; if there's people in there that need our help, we can oblige to assist them; if there's anything that we can benefit from, we take it if it don't belong to anyone; if it turns out to be nothing more than a raider den, well... Lily, you can explain what we do to raiders."

The Nightkin standing next to Boone only grinned maliciously, "I won't need Leo anymore to tell me who to chop with those bad people, dearie."

As soon as she said that, almost everyone, save for Boone and ED-E, decided to shift away from the Super Mutant grandmother.

"Well, aside from our friend's psychopathic intentions with raiders, your plan is pretty straightforward," Raul spoke up, the ghoul vaquero shifting his weight onto his other foot as he motioned to the building with a nod, "But I doubt that the place is packing anything interesting, if the building wasn't picked clean by prospectors already."

Jack turned and looked at ED-E when the eyebot gave off a series of blips and whirs within it's audio system, the Courier then responded to the both of them,"You both have good points, but I doubt that prospectors would find any use what they could consider pieces of scrap metal when they don't even know what to do with it or how it even works. As for you, ED-E, even if it's just a raider base, we'd be doing New Vegas a favor if we went in there anyway."

The Courier then turned to the group of Samaritans behind Boone, each of which had been doing their own thing until his voice had their attention, "Alright, ladies and gents, you have no idea how glad I am to know that y'all have decided to travel with us. Though I have to warn you, this place might be packed with anything that bring the hurt on any of us if we give them the chance. So I ask again, if there's anyone that wants the back out, no one will fault you."

Jack looked among the platoon of his makeshift militia to see the faces of men and women belonging to various backgrounds among the Mojave: people just looking for work, ghouls that had no other way of getting a job, Khans that couldn't part with the Mojave and joined the one who helped bring his old people to the metamorphosis of a great empire; hell, Jack even saw a Super Mutant from Black Mountain in the group.

He listened as the group shifted about uneasily before one stepped forward, an aged man with graying hair holding what many dubbed the "Cowboy Repeater", "Sir, I think I speak fer all of us when I say that we know that we were signin' up to get ourselves into a helluva lotta trouble. I say this for all of us when I say that we'd probably follow you into the gates of hell if it means comin' back out and sayin', 'Now I got a fine story to tell you back when I worked for the Courier himself.'. So no, I doubt that anyone feels like backing out, right boys and girls?"

Jack grinned proudly while Boone couldn't help but smirk as the men and women dressed in the armor of the Samaritans yelled enthusiastically, "Now, if that don't get the blood pumpin', I don't know what does."

It was a sound decision to have Boone train the Samaritans.

The man looked to the rest of his comrades, "Alright now, we have to catch up with the good doctor and help him find out what's causin' that there distress call, you with me?"

"Of course," Boone nodded, unslinging the rifle from his back and into his hands.

"Don't worry, I can keep up," Cass said, pushing herself off of the wall and standing upright on both feet.

Veronica stood up from the vending machine and started to readjust her power fist until the right modifications have been made, "Beats doing paperwork with the Brotherhood of Steel all day."

ED-E responded by playing _"Ride of the Valkyries"_ for a few brief seconds before whirring in agreement.

"I've always wanted to go traveling, sweetie," Lily said, popping the bones in her knuckles, "We should do this more often."

"Though I'm sure pretty we're rushing towards our deaths, it's good to see we're doing this with enthusiasm," Raul sarcastically responded, checking the state of his revolver before spinning the chamber and holstering his gun.

Rex was the last to respond, barking ecstatically before pawing at the ground with his mechanical foot.

"Glad to see you guys are still as able as ever," Jack responded, placing his helmet over his head and picking up Medicine Stick before looking at the building ahead of them, "Now, let's see what's sending that distress beacon."

 **-oOo-**

"So what's with the kid?" Jericho asked, his Chinese Assault rifle pointed directly into the dim hallway ahead of him.

"I don't understand your question," Fawkes replied, following behind the former raider.

"Huh, figures, never thought a mutie would understand," the man sneered before turning the corner, revealing another hall lined with several doors on either side. Jericho tapped a button on the wall and watched as the door on his left slid open. The man spotted cabinet and a set of terminals beside it, "This looks... important."

The Super Mutant watched as the man began to scavenge whatever was in the terminals, removing a holodisk and inserting it into the terminal. Fawkes glared at the raider, this former... wrongdoer, yet at the same time, he chose to assist James and Jay during their previous journeys. The raider was a complete paradox to what Fawkes stood for.

"Haha! Score!" Jericho cried out, pulling out a bottle of aged liquor from the cabinet, the man then proceeded to uncork the bottle with a knife and down nearly half of it's contents in only seconds, "Well, doesn't get any better than this."

Fawkes couldn't help but sigh at the man's actions, "Is there anything worth noting in that terminal?"

Jericho only shrugged, "Beats me, fuckin' kid didn't ask for specifics. All he said was whatever looked important, so I thought this looked important."

The Super Mutant only proceeded to kneel over to the terminal and read whatever was on-screen, "Hmm... Jericho, these are records for kitchen supplies to be transported to the Vault's mess hall."

"A what?"

"A kitchen."

"Hmm?"

Fawkes gave the raider an incredulous stare for a few brief seconds, "Nevermind."

"Whatever you say, a man's gotta enjoy the finer things in life," the man only continued to lean into the wall and down the rest of the bottle before tossing it aside, which then proceeded to shatter as soon as it made contact with the floor.

Fawkes tapped at the keys with his enlarged fingers, straining to read the small print in the terminal as he spotted the words 'Classified information' at the bottom. He then pushed the keys down until it hovered just over the words. Fawkes growled to himself as he tapped 'Enter', only to be locked out.

"Havin' trouble?" Jericho managed to stumble over next to the Super Mutant, "Here, lemme see, this is a little trick Jay taught me when we were hunting down ghouls in a locked down section of the Metro. Guess you can teach an old dog new tricks."

The Super Mutant took a step back as the raider began to type away at the keyboard, the screen began to jumble up into several lines of code before the icons began to light up in various orders. After some time, Jericho walked back to the wall he had been leaning on, "All done, read it and weep, mutie."

Fawkes leaned over once more to get a closer look at what Jericho had just unlocked, his eyes scanning quickly across the tiny text, "Hmm... interesting..."

"What the fuck is it?" the man complained, "Make it a surprise, why don'tcha?"

The taller of the two glanced at the former raider before responding, "These are schematics for some sort of transportation device, a machine meant to transport materials from this Vault over to a bunker in... California? Perhaps James could read into it better."

"So we're done here? All we gotta do is bring this back to the egghead and we're golden?" Jericho queried, raising an eyebrow in concern.

The Super Mutant looked away and held back an irritated growl before turning back, "I suppose so. I think that this would seem important enough for James."

"Alright, let's get to it then, mutie," Jericho sneered at the giant before picking up his rifle and walking back into the hallway with Fawkes following close behind, "You see how easy it was? Just one room and we find somethin' worth taking to the little tyke."

Fawkes' eye twitched slightly, his hands itching to reach for his super sledge... at this point, he's considering giving up and pulverizing the man's head with it until there was nothing left but a bloody stump and brain matter.

Though that would only make him appear as uncivilized if the Meta-human brained the man for just being a dick. Given the circumstances, it would only proceed to make the situation even worse, if there was anything hostile within the vault worth noting.

In the meantime, they had something important in their possession, and James needs to see it for himself.

 **-oOo-**

Jack Fitz pulled open the casing to a nearby power box, running his fingers across the multi-colored knobs before getting to work on the lights. The Courier paused for a brief moment as he heard footsteps behind him, only to see Arcade walking back into the main room with the rest of the group, carrying a large radio with both hands.

 **[Repair 100/85]** After a little bit of manipulation behind the electronics, courtesy of a few little tricks he learned back in his time in the Capital Wasteland, he managed to activate the power to the main floor.

The man sometimes wondered what the Mojave would be like if he had just stayed in the Capital Wasteland. If he had to guess, the stalemate would be even longer than it should've gone on.

Sounded fun.

"To quote scripture: _Fiat Lux_ ," Arcade hummed as he looked at the flickering lights that proceeded to then give out, only for the Courier to lightly tap his fist against the power box and watch it come back to life again, "Well... sort of."

" _Let there be light_ ," Jack repeated before standing back up with Maria gripped in his left hand, "Well, that seems to be working well."

"So... how's this gonna work out? Are we going to be splitting up or what?" Cass asked, placing her hands on her hips and waiting for the man's response.

"On the contrary, my dear Whiskey Rose," the Courier spun around and faced the woman with a smirk playing about on his lips before hardening into a more serious expression, "We're all sticking together, if there's anything dangerous here, say... a giant irradiated alpha deathclaw, it would be harder for it to pick us off if we were in a large group, rather than just collection of smaller groups that could easily be picked out one by one."

"Are you just paranoid, or do we need Boone to keep you from watching slasher holotapes again?" Veronica asked, earning a look from the sniper not too far away, "Because there's a bit too much imagination going on in your brain for something like that to be lounging around in a narrow cramped hallway."

"Anyways," Fitz started, completely deciding to ignore Veronica's question, earning a small annoyed huff from the girl, "Arcade, did you find anything worth noting in the complex?"

"Hmm?" the man hummed in confusion before realizing that the man was talking to him, he then removed a folded bundle of laminated white paper from his lab coat, "Oh yeah, yeah, I found some schematics over in one of the lower areas' records room. They were locked within a safe, but I managed to get it open with extreme precision."

"What did you use?"

"A ripper," Arcade admitted, "Though only the safe was harmed, seeing as these plans were the only thing inside."

"So we basically came all the way here for paperwork?" Raul asked, "Sounds like my old job in accounting when I was a kid."

"No, the plans are secondary, we still have that distress call to worry about," Jack said, pointing at the door leading down further into the complex.

"Yeah... about that," the young Enclave Remnant started, scratching the top of his head, a nervous tic, "I kind of found the 'beacon'."

They watched as the man tapped a gloved finger on the radio he had brought earlier, "This is the device that was causing all of our trouble."

"Huh... I expected it to be bigger," Cass said.

"Is that what you tell all the men?" answered a dry and raspy voice.

Everyone froze as they turned to the source of response given to Cass with widened eyes (save for ED-E, Lily, and Rex).

No one would've expected Boone of all people to even have the regard to answer her, or even the dignity to reply with that statement.

"Wow... Boone, are you alright? Do you have rad sickness or something, because I think I can take care of that if you want," Arcade shook his head incredulously, refusing to believe that such a hard-assed soldier would even have a sense of humor.

"I'm fine," Boone said, his smirk disappearing into his constantly neutral expression.

And there it is again.

"Ouch, soldier-boy, I think I felt that one in my soul," the girl chuckled before clapping a hand onto the man's shoulder, "But to be honest, no, I don't."

The rest of the group was in an uproar of laughter as soon as they realized that Cass had decided to let the man's comment slide, deciding that what he had said was, in fact, pretty damn funny.

The Courier only shook his head in amusement before turning to Arcade, "Alright, humorous moment aside. If that radio was the cause of this, who turned it on?"

"That's just the thing, Jack. It turned on by itself," the Enclave Remnant responded, deciding to explain further as the Courier raised an eyebrow in concern, "My best guess is, whoever made the message probably set it to start after a certain date."

"Is there a reason why he would choose this date?" Veronica asked, "I mean, there has to be reason why he or she would choose September 30th of all days."

Jack only shook his head before walking towards the same place Arcade had just come back from, "There probably doesn't need to be a rhyme nor reason for why. For all we know, it just is what it is. And I reckon that if they would decide to play their message on an encrypted channel for all of the Enclave to hear, then it must be pretty damn important."

Arcade nodded before placing the laminated plans on a table for everyone to see, "You're right. The papers here show of a machine that can be used to transport materials between two places instantaneously. It's similar to those stories you told us about Big MT, you remember that, right?"

"Unfortunately," the Courier's hand traced along the lines of his surgical scars, "So it's basically the same?"

The scientist only shook his head, "No, it has the same concept, only this is far more primitive. From what I can tell, these can only transport materials between two fixed points in an area. And from the reports I've read so far, there haven't been any trials for transporting living organisms due to complications with scheduling."

"Really? And where is this other fixed point?"

"From the coordinates given on paper, I'd say it's on the other side of the old United States," Arcade answered.

The Courier flinched slightly at the revelation, knowing what the Enclave Remnant had just provided to him, "What a startling coincidence. Another Enclave base is on the other side of the world, otherwise known as Washington DC, or the Capital Wasteland, as I'd like to put it. That Enclave wasn't as friendly as the Remnants today, just wanted to tell you."

Arcade readjusted his glasses, "Makes sense, the Enclave would want another start, using a fresh slate for any of their projects by literally going across the world so the man who finished destroyed their old oil rig base would be as far away from them as possible."

Everyone was then taken by surprised when Lily decided to speak.

"I heard Marcus talking about that. A tribal from a place called Arroyo, named the Chosen One, right?"

Arcade shook his head, "I wouldn't know, honestly. But I guess it makes sense."

He then turned to the Courier, "Jack, I don't usually say this because I believe that tampering with super-secret Enclave tech isn't exactly a good idea, but just this once, I think that the Mojave, as well as any other wasteland in the United States, could actually benefit from this."

Fitz raised an eyebrow in concern, "If you don't mind explaining...?"

"Not at all," the man shook his head, "I was just saying if we can manage to get in contact with other civilizations that could've sprung up over the last two-hundred years, we could broker trading deals, possibly benefit from either exchange."

The Courier was starting to understand what the man was saying. It seemed a little ludicrous in theory, though it might be able to work if actually applied. Usually it's the other way around, but there were times when luck would decide to throw Jack a bone and flip it for his benefit.

Curse the damned 1 on his Luck statistic in the SPECIAL category of his Pip-Boy! He's managed to make it this far without Lady Luck looking over his shoulder. It was really liberating the more he thought about it.

"So what you're saying is that you plan on using that there machine, reverse engineer it to make more, then proceed to place fixed points within certain regions of the old world where there's civilization, more than likely for trading purposes, I reckon?"

"Of course."

"Well, that does sound like an idea I can get behind..." Jack stroked his chin lightly with his thumb and index finger, "But there's a downside as well."

This time, Boone decided to finish the man's thought, "If this machine can transport people instantaneously, can't there be a chance that a transporter could be compromised before sending soldiers like, say... the Legion into another region without warning. They'd be easy pickings for anyone with that kind of plan."

"We can make the proper modifications for it to send non-living objects," Veronica piped in, "Another idea would also be for this transportation machine to be unable to move items such as timed explosives, active robots, or anything similar. I'm sure I can convince a couple scribes from the Brotherhood to begin helping for this should it ever happen."

Jack tilted his head to the side, looking up in consideration, "Alright, I guess our work just ain't over yet. We'll see if we can get that machine operational for a test run, strip it down piece by piece and haul it back to the Mojave for reverse-engineering."

The Courier then turned to the vaquero ghoul just across the room, "Raul, you ready to put those engineer hands to work, hombre?"

Raul only shook his head, "Besides your shit Spanish, I'd be more than happy to, boss."

"Then what're we waiting for?" the man looked to the rest of the people around him, "Let's get to it!"

Jack turned to see Lily cracking a devilish (though not intentionally malicious) smile at him, turning to the door and bouncing the over-sized knapsack on her back for better comfort.

"Ow!" the... bag said?

Courier Six looked at the aged Nightkin in concern, "Lily?"

She refused to look him in the eye, "Yes... sweetie?"

"What's in the bag?"

"Oh, nothing, probably just molerats getting into the bag again."

"I doubt molerats can just say 'ow'. Let me ask a different question: _who's_ in the bag?"

Lily only removed the bag from her back and set it on the floor, loosening the strings before a figure rose out of the bag; revealing a young girl wearing an armored vault suit and a Pip-Boy 3000. The whole room was silent as they stared at the girl's sudden appearance.

"Uh... hey there!"

"Melody!?"

 **-oOo-**

James looked at the plans on his Pip-Boy as soon as he had returned to meet up with the rest of his group, rereading the information given to him by Fawkes and Jericho. His eyes constantly scanning along the bright and small green text on the screen, a look of bewilderment and surprise ruling his expression.

This... this changes things! For the first time, long-ranged teleportation was actually possible. The scientific part of his brain, the one region that excelled the most in this kind of subject due to his father's personal teachings were firing off on all cylinders. Oh, imagine the possibilities that could be made with this kind of knowledge, with transportation of materials across vast areas of land being only the forefront of his mind.

His small group watched as he looked at Jericho, "And you're absolutely sure that this is legitimate?"

The man scoffed and looked to Fawkes, "How the fuck should I know? I only unlocked the terminal for big, green, and ugly over there."

Fawkes growled in irritation at the man only to then turn to the Lone Wanderer, "The notes only said something about this machine just a floor above this Vault's reactor room."

James hefted his rifle, "Then that's where we're headed."

"Commander! Requesting permission to speak!" the old Mister Gutsy asked, earning the attention of the robot's 'commanding officer'.

"You never needed permission, Sergeant," James deadpanned, but otherwise did not break attention. The robot continued to stay silent for only a few brief seconds.

"That means you're allowed to speak, numb-nuts," Jericho hit the top of hovering robot's head with the butt of his gun, only for the machine to then point it's flamethrower at him, but other did not fire at him.

"Thank you, sir! What I've been meaning to ask is: What about this distress beacon?" RL-3 queried, "You said that it was what lead us here? I want to know what happened to the sorry bastards that lived in this place."

James nodded, beginning a slow pace around the room, "Good question. I already searched for the Overseer's office to see that the beacon had been set on a timer before going off, so as far as I know, no one's inside. Turns out that the Overseer had planned for the Enclave residents to evacuate the vault as soon as the plans made by President Eden have concluded. Though since the Enclave failed in their mission, they turned to a more... alternative solution."

"Such as?" Cross asked.

"Well, there've been tales of the Enclave going all the way back to places such as California. My theory is that they've used their transporter, despite the lack of human trials, to take them somewhere else to reconnect with another Enclave chapter. Whether they're actually alive is unknown.

"My plan is to make our way to this machine and see if we can get it up and running. Since there have only been successes with non-living objects, I would send a machine to investigate. Sergeant, would you be up to the task?"

"I'd be more than _dee-lighted_ , sir!" the Mister Gutsy snapped to attention, "Anyone lookin' like a devil-faced sunovabitch will be logged 'n reported back, then I'll be more than happy to warm up the guns for what's to come next, commander!"

James gave the floating robot a hidden smirk, "Love the enthusiasm, sergeant. Now, let's head on down and get a look at what we're dealing with."

 **-oOo-**

Melody followed alongside Jack as they made their way down the complex, each of them clearing a room to make sure there wasn't anything particularly dangerous before moving onto the next. The young adolescent shouldered her modified hunting rifle (thanks to Boone) and carried on, listening to the steady footsteps of the Samaritans, the pattering of Rex's paws, and the heavy and sluggish thuds of Lily Bowen, her vertibird-bladed sword hefted onto her shoulder.

The girl was a little upset, but never reluctant to serve alongside her adoptive father. The man had taught her almost everything she's needed to survive: hand-to-hand combat using training from the NCR, Khans, and the Legion when he had gone to hear the words of the _'mighty'_ Caesar; surviving off of the land, training with almost every weapon he let her get her hands on (though she wasn't allowed to touch Maria or A Light Shining In Darkness for personal reasons), explosives was... still to be taken care of, knowledge in the study of Science! and medicine that would put the high school graduates of New Reno to shame.

The Think Tank was a little too enthusiastic with being given permission by Jack to teach her. She still remembers Klein getting his brain stuck in the latrine after being convinced that it lead to Mobius' Forbidden Zone, Borous treating her a little bit too... canine-y due to his only experience of relationships being with Gabe, Doctor 8 being all too eager to try to teach 'sound appreciation' (most of it being being an amalgamation of different harmonic noises), Doctor O- oops, Doctor 0trying to educate her in robotics (key word being _trying_ ), while Dala just kept referring to her as "the Teddy Bear's cub" (much to her embarrassment).

In the end, however, it was The Sink's personality modules (yes... even the Toaster, to her chagrin) that taught her a majority of her education more than those floating brains could hope to achieve. Funny that a bunch of everyday appliances with personality chips managed to teach her more about science than five people with actual degrees in Science!.

Now that she had thought more of Jack, AKA Courier Six, she had almost every right to call him her father. Though the Courier wouldn't have agreed to it and was instead forced into the role, he still did a hell of a lot better than a majority of parents in the wasteland. Sure, he can be a bit of a hardass, and a smartass... and a jackass, but she still looked up to him with pride.

As for what happened, when Jack had discovered that Melody had been stowing away in Lily's supply bag over the trip without anyone's knowledge (save for Lily herself), she had been given a stern lecture over the dangers of traveling outside of the Mojave, especially if it had anything to do with the Enclave. Immediately after, he asked if she had a weapon, Melody replied 'yes', so Jack told her to arm herself before telling her to stick close to him before descending further into the building's underground complex.

But nevertheless, she knew that he enjoyed the role of being a father and mentor, relying on the rest of his friends as a surrogate family ('Uncle' Boone and Arcade, 'Grandma' Lily, 'Aunt' Veronica and Cass, 'Cousin' ED-E, so on and so forth). So far, his only gift to her at the time was a weathered 10mm pistol that she had treasured ever since, while Boone had given her his old hunting rifle, instead taking up his old Gobi Campaign rifle once more in memory of his wife.

Yeah, it hurt Melody a bit too to see Boone do such a thing.

"Alright, we're here," Jack's low voice broke the silence. The entire group had slowly trudged through a dimly-lit narrow and cramped hallway before coming to a stop in front of a metal door, it was a surprised that she hadn't heard a single complaint from the group, "Alright, Arcade, what would we have to expect here?"

"I estimate around... four, maybe five sentry bots, and each corner set with an automated turret if I had to guess," the man ran his fingers across the side of his helmet in thought before raising his plasma rifle, "You got this?"

"We got this," Jack confirmed before wrenching the lever on his brush gun, ready for the ensuing fight.

Melody looked to Arcade, who then looked at her with a small grin on his face, before opening the door, watching as Jack immediately charged into the room, gun raised to eye level and pointed at whatever would be shooting at him in the next room.

Besides the sounds of his footsteps, Melody heard nothing from the room. Eventually, she watched Jack leave the room and look at Arcade, who was doing his best not to laugh at this point, "You're an asshole, Gannon."

Everyone watched as Arcade immediately burst out in a fit of laughter, leaning on the wall and trying not to fall over. They then turned to Jack, who had now removed his helmet and set his arm around it, glaring at the Enclave Remnant with a look that could kill a deathclaw if need be.

"Wait, what happened?" Boone asked, voicing everyone's thoughts.

"There are no robots here," he explained, "It turns out that the transporter had been used to move the machines to Delaware as one of the test trials before they had disappeared. I just decided not to tell Jack about it."

The Courier only proceeded to rub his temples with a gloved hand, listening as the rest of the group began to laugh at the revelation, before looking at the scientist, "Remind me never to hire you as my secretary, Arcade."

"Noted," he waved off before pointing a thumb at the door, "But on a more serious note, the machine's inside. All you need to do is give it a test run and it should work fine."

"Should?" an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, _should_ ," Arcade said, "Not everything is one-hundred percent."

Jack suddenly took an interest in his SPECIAL stats, glancing at the single Luck statistic on the screen.

 _'Why do I get the feeling that this'll fuck me over in the end?'_

Forget it, he wasn't going to place his trust in an arbitrary number. He's made it this far, hasn't he?

"Understood, Gannon," Jack stepped back into the room, Melody and the others followed closely after.

Jack turned to the rest of the Samaritans, "Make sure to guard this area. Even though there aren't any killer robots in here, there sure as hell may be any unwanted guests in this place. I don't like the feeling of not running into at least a bit of trouble in an abandoned place like this."

The men and women before him nodded and did as they were commanded. Each of them taking different positions in the hallways to make sure they would have the advantage against whatever may come.

They were then greeted by a large room separated by two different sections that both took up half of the room. One side was a set of controls, panels, and blinking buttons in the room separated by a large pane of glass that Jack had to guess was most likely bullet-proof glass; the other side was a bare room, lacking everything but a steel ceiling and walls. The only thing that was even remotely different was the large bunker-like object in the center, which Jack had to guess was the machine. It was a small building with a front in the shape of a trapezoid. Red and green hoses jutted out from the sides of the machine, while vacuum tubes stuck out from the front; the top of the machine had a large metal pole that poked out from the ceiling hooked up to it.

"Welp, I think this is it," Cass said, "This is it, right?"

ED-E only gave off a short buzzing noise followed by a series of blips, then began to shake for a few seconds before turning towards the machine.

Veronica blinked at the eyebot in shock, "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"I don't speak robot, senora," Raul chuckled, "But even I don't think that was very child-friendly."

Melody understood it perfectly, though she wasn't surprised at ED-E's vulgarity when the bot was angry.

"Arcade, you know how this thing works?" Jack asked.

The man in the Enclave armor nodded, "I think so. The architecture to this place is very similar to the Remnants' Bunker. If I had to guess..." he strode towards the terminal in the center, one that held a dim-blue screen and a red keyboard, "This would be it... and we're in!"

"Didn't expect that to be so short," Cass remarked, only to then turn to Boone with a fierce glare, "Don't you fucking say a word."

The sniper only ignored her, but Melody spotted the hidden grin.

Cheeky bastard.

They watched as Arcade continued to type at the keys at an almost excited pace, "ED-E, I'm going to need your help."

ED-E blipped to attention.

"I'll need you to see if you can power that generator. From what I can see here, the generator was what powered the machine before it went dark. Think you can do that?"

The eyebot hummed in confirmation before floating to the corner of the room where the generator resided. ED-E carefully approached the large, rectangular machine before he began to shake for a second, electricity then pooled out from the bot before sparking to life.

 **[Science 65]** "ED-E, power's at sufficient level. We wouldn't want to have to drag you back to the Mojave as a steaming mess, now would we?" Melody asked. The robot then proceeded to stop and turn to the scientist at the terminal.

"She's right, you're good for now," Arcade waved off before turning to the girl beside him, "I guess Jack really did get you the best education money could offer."

"Too bad for him, he was dirt broke at the time," Melody giggled, stepping back as the Courier entered the conversation.

"Is the machine ready?" Jack interrupted.

"Yeah, let me just fire it up," Arcade pushed his glasses closer before tapping away at the keys, "Aaand done. It should be activated now."

Jack diverted his attention away from the Enclave scientist and looked to the other side of the glass, watching as the machine's inner workings began to spring to life. The vacuum tubes lit up in a dim light, the colored hoses stiffened as pressurized gas began to swell up their form, while the tesla coils within the metal pole began to spark to life, long spears of electricity flickering across various portions of the room before disappearing and reappearing elsewhere.

" _It's alive!_ **It's alive!** What? Nobody?" the Enclave Remnant looked around the room to see if anyone got the joke, "Killjoys."

Courier Six watched as the lights hanging from the ceiling began to flicker, but he paid it no mind. Though what really had his attention was the alarms going off after just thirty seconds of the machine's activation.

"Uh, Arcade? Is it supposed to do that?" an inwardly panicking Courier asked Arcade, who had been typing away quickly at the keyboard.

"No! It's not supposed to be doing this," the man only slammed his fist into the space beside the terminal, leaving a dent in the metal, "Dammit! The machine's about to overload, if we get caught in the blast radius, who knows what would happen to us?!"

"Then what're we standing around talking!" Cass yelled, "We need to go!"

"How much time do we have left?" Jack asked as the rest of the group started to leave.

Arcade turned back and made a quick glance at the terminal, about to give his answer.

Though the Courier never got his answer, as the machine engulfed him, Arcade, the rest of his companions, and the Samaritans in a bright haze of white light.

Immediately after, Jack's vision faded to black.

 **-oOo-**

James opened his eyes to be greeted by the sight of green. The Lone Wanderer groaned slightly as he pushed himself off the floor, the whirring sound in his armor told him that the suit was in one piece.

The man had looked up to see a stunning sight before him: green grass, tall trees reaching up to the sky, a dark sky and a shattered moon... hold on a minute. James did a double take as he stared back up at the sky. His mind whirring with another thousand question buzzing in his mind like a hive of angry bees. There was something truly, very wrong with the sight of **the moon being shattered into pieces!**

He never received his answers, as he heard another set of groaning behind him. The Lone Wanderer turned around to see the rest of his group in the process of standing up, "Is everyone alright?"

Each of them claimed to be alright. Good, they needed to find out what had just happened to them. James only had to think back to what happened when they reached the room of the machine.

James remembered that they had found the machine, figuring out how to get it to work. Until suddenly, it sparks to life on it's own. Normally, this would've been manageable, but the activated machine triggered the vault's security systems, sending several sentry bots to deal with the problem.

They had managed to take out three of the bots, but at the cost of damage to both him and his team (stimpaks made it manageable, though) and the window that separated the machine and them, until finally, the glass shattered and several stray bullets had damaged the machine's internal workings, causing a malfunction. And then... and then...

He and the rest of the team ended up here, in some forest with a likeness to Point Lookout. And if that's taught him anything, it's be careful around this place. He decided to activate his Pip-Boy, turning the knobs on the small wrist-mounted machine until it brought out the map of the area.

It showed nothing... it only said that the Pip-Boy wasn't connected to any RobCo satellites. That didn't make any sense... weren't these supposed to operate anywhere?

"Any idea where we are?" Fawkes asked, lumbering over to the edge of the forest's clearing before turning back to James.

"No idea, but we still have to be careful here, we could be in uncharted territory for all we know."

"Are you just going to ignore the fact that WE JUST ENDED UP IN SOME OTHER PART OF THE WORLD?!" Jericho yelled incredulously.

"I know that, Jericho!" James countered, "Which is why we're going to be traveling more until we reach a safer place to rest. Because for all we know, this can be a perfect area for predators to surround prey for all we know."

Before the Raider had time to rebut, they turned to the sound of rustling nearby.

"They found us already," James looked to the rest of his group, "Be ready to fight incase there's conflict, understood."

Despite the team's diverse choices of character, they all managed to agree.

James picked up his rifle and aimed it in the direction of the rustling, poised to strike if their intentions were hostile. Though he picked up the subtle rustling surrounding them.

They had them surrounded, but they, whoever 'they' were, weren't attacking them.

Immediately, a figure in an old duster coat and armor emerged from the thick forestry, their face covered by a glowing gas mask and a helmet. In the figure's arms was a rifle aimed down.

Willing to talk, it seemed.

"Knight of the Brotherhood of Steel!" the man yelled, his voice muffled by the mask, "We do not seek to cause harm, I've only come to talk."

"Explain yourself," James ordered, his rifle still pointed at the man's chest.

"My group and I are not here to cause any trouble. I only wish for a ceasefire before one actually occurs," the man said, the end of the rifle tapping against his chest as he finally stopped in front of him.

James cocked his head to the side, "And how do we know that you'll fulfill that ceasefire? You have your men surrounding us already, don't you?"

The man in the duster nodded his head, "Just a precautionary measure in case you decided to open fire on first contact. Besides, the NCR is now on good terms with Brotherhood, so you should recognize that agreement."

"NCR? I don't follow," the Lone Wanderer said, not understanding what this 'NCR' was, "My group and I are from the East chapter."

The man stopped, "East chapter, huh? Were you poking around in a building, looking for some kind of teleportation machine?"

"A vault, actually, but yes," James nodded, lowering his rifle, "I suppose I can consider an act of nonagression."

"Good answer. Alright guys, we're on good terms now, you can come out," he turned over his shoulder and ordered. James then watched as this man's group began to emerge from the edge of the forest's clearing.

A young man in a red beret holding a rifle, a woman with red hair in a brown suede jacket and a diamond-shaped pendant around her neck, a teenage girl in a vault suit, another girl in a brown robe with a power glove around her right hand, an old woman wearing a plaid shirt, overalls, a and straw hat; and an middle-aged hispanic man wearing what appeared to be a... cowboy outfit? These were some the man's more... relatively normal companions. They were then followed by what appeared to be a dog with... cybernetic implants and what appeared to be it's brain being held in a glass case just above it's head, another figure wearing power armor, and an eyebot.

James' grip tightened around his rifle as he raised it at the man in the modified X-01 Enclave power armor, "You brought a member of the Enclave with you?!"

 ***Click***

The Lone Wanderer heard the sound of the man's thumb cocking back the hammer of a revolver, the barrel pressed against his head hard, "We had an agreement, tin-head. Put the gun down and no one gets hurt."

"Now why should I trust you?!" James spat, listening as the rest of his companions armed themselves against the hostiles that surrounded them, this... 'NCR' soldier's companions doing the same as well, "You're traveling with some Enclave bastard!"

"Hey, no need to be discriminatory, buddy, it's a long story," the Enclave soldier replied, but the Lone Wanderer ignored his idle remark.

James suddenly heard the pitter-pattering of steps making their way towards the two. He glanced down to see his familiar canine companion looking at the soldiers locked in a stalemate.

"Dogmeat, get back, this is between the two of us," the Lone Wanderer ordered, but the dog did not. Instead, it did the exact opposite, walking over to the opposing soldier and sniffing at his ankle.

The dog cocked his head to the side before uttering a single bark.

"Dogmeat? Is that you?" the other man asked, his attention turning to the dog before looking up at James, his mask frozen still for only a few brief moments.

He then watched as other soldier stepped back, "Let me repeat your question: Why should you trust me?"

James stared at the man, who had pushed the hammer back into the gun before holstering it. The man then pressed a button on the side of his helmet, the green lights that made up the bug-eyed lenses flickered off. The soldier then pressed his hands against the side of his helmet before pulling it off of his head, now holding it in his arm.

"Because that's not a good way to greet your brother," Jay replied, a playful grin plastered on his face in recognition.

"WHAT!?" everyone behind both Jay and James cried out in unison.

 ***Thunk!***

Jay looked down at the ground, "You dropped your rifle."

"Yes... yes I just did," James whispered, the man was still for only a moment before he too removed his helmet, "It's... it's been a long time, Jay."

"It's Jack now, brother. A lot has changed in just six short years," the man replied with a smile, only to reel back in back as James' fist smashed into his face.

"And for six years you've been gone!" James roared, Jay... no, **Jack** , as he called himself now, kneeling down and clutching his nose in pain.

"Should we do something?" the girl in the hood asked the man in the beret.

"Let them sort it out."

"It's good to see you too, James," Jack finally straightened himself out before injecting a stimpak into his neck, "But I've been busy with my own affairs, sorry if I couldn't give my brother the happy family reunion he was expecting," despite the healing wound, the Courier rubbed his nose to remove any soreness that still lingered, "Besides, I'm sure that rumors spread fast... I've gotten the eyebots."

The Lone Wanderer's hand clenched into a fist once more, "And what've you been doing that was so busy that you couldn't answer the messages I've sent you?"

"Sending messages of my own, hunting down my own killer, staging a war against a totalitarian de facto leader as well as an overexpanding republic and a brutal dictatorship reminiscent of the Roman Empire for starters," Jack only gave him a shrug, though noticing the intensifying glare of his barely-younger twin.

So it was best to change the subject before any more facial injuries could occur.

"It seems you also got rid of that scar I gave you when we were eighteen."

James had prepared to send the man another fist, but stopped himself, "What're you talking about? I never got rid of them."

"To remind yourself of what I did to you back then, I know," he said, rolling his eyes, "But that's the problem, it's gone."

The Lone Wanderer was then handed a small mirror by Jay- err, Jack. He stared hard in the mirror, tracing his finger at the burn scar that Jay had given him during their eighteenth birthday, "It's not there... In fact, I think I look a bit younger."

"That's what Arcade, my Enclave friend-" he pointed a thumb at the man, who gave a short wave, "-Had theorized. He thinks that the machine had somehow either reversed aging, or had aided in cellular regeneration. It's tough choice because that man in the vaquero suit-"

He motioned to the aforementioned man, "-Was a ghoul last time I checked. And that little old lady beside him was once a Nightkin, a... cousin of some sorts to the Super Mutants."

"That's a bit of a stretch, isn't it?" James wondered skeptically, only to look back and see that, in Charon's place, was instead a young man with red hair, though Fawkes stayed the same for some reason, "I take it back, how the hell did they make this work?"

"Hey, I take what's given to me. How should I know?" Jack argued, "Besides, I'm missing a few of my old battle wounds during our time in the Capital Wasteland. So I have to guesstimate that we're now either seventeen or eighteen, give or take."

James shook his head, "There has to be a logical explanation for this. Where are we, anyway?"

"Beats me," Jack shrugged, "But I can tell we ain't in either DC or the Mojave anymore. The big clue is up there," he pointed a finger to the sky.

"Yeah, I noticed," the man deadpanned, taking note of his brother's slight, almost unnoticeable western drawl, "Now, we need to get to civilization, if there is any, or somewhere that's at least safer than this open space."

"You read my mind, brother," Jack grinned before placing two fingers to his lips and emitting a high-pitched whistle, "Alright, Samaritans, we're good to go!"

Immediately after, another group of people, all dressed in similar armor began to approach them, their rifles lowered as they had acknowledge the lack of conflict.

"Friends of yours, Courier?" one of the men asked.

"Something like that, but we're all good nonetheless," Jack confirmed, watching as the man hummed before joining up behind him.

"Courier?"

"The Capital Wasteland calls you the Lone Wanderer, the Mojave calls me the Courier," Jack explained. He then looked up as they heard the sounds of aircraft flying over their heads, passing over them and flying west.

"Vertibirds?"

"Not sure, they sound different," James said, looking at the rest of his group, "We're heading out, guys. Dogmeat, you're taking point."

"Huh, what a coincidence, Jamie-boy," Jack grinned, placing his hands on his hips, "I was just about to let Rex do the same thing."

"Shut up," James snapped with an irritated scowl, placing his helmet back to complete the rest of his armor, marching off with the rest of his group as Dogmeat ran ahead of them.

The Courier only grinned a wide and excited grin before he too placed his helmet back on, "Oh, I can tell this is going to be a fun trip. Come on, men, we're heading out."

* * *

 _And so the two brothers, reunited in a strange land, make their way further into the unknown._

 _What they didn't know was that, once again, they would make history in this new world._

 _For better, or for worse._

* * *

 **Disclaimer: And that's a wrap! Merry Christmas, everybody, sorry I'm a little (scratch that, VERY) late for this new chapter. But I just had to trudge through this piece of exposition, filler, dialogue, and lack of action.**

 **"WHERE'S THE ACTION?!" You may ask. Well, my hypothetical reader. It will come in time, and it will be awesome!**

 **Anyway, I wish everybody a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Holidays, or whatever you guys celebrate, just enjoy your day.**

 **And as always, stay beautiful, ladies and gentlemen.**


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